Plain Jane
by tattooedviolin
Summary: She's anything but plain. Grown in a test tube, trained as an assassin from before she could walk, and now trying to live as much like a normal girl as she can. But can she, in a world where you can only leave for good when you're dead? Probably more around T, but rated M because I'm paranoid. OC-Centric.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is my first story on FF. Expect some crappiness (e.g.: OOC-ness, comic inaccuracies, etc.). If you see it, please leave a (polite, please) message. If I can, I will fix it, but if it interrupts the story, I will just as likely leave it in. This is not meant to be disrespectful, but I have spent a lot of time developing this story and changing one seemingly insignificant detail could quite possibly adjust the whole plot. Chaos theory, people.

Also, this story is OC-CENTRIC. I am essentially borrowing the YJ universe and characters. Most of the events will revolve around my character. If you have little patience for such things, I respectfully suggest you leave now. If you flame, IT WILL BE MOCKED in the story if I can fit it in.

Please, read and review! It makes the story better!

* * *

June 5, 20- -: League of Shadows, Taipei. 2300 hours

"I can't believe it! This one is still alive after nearly three hours! Numbers one through 23 never came close!" the astonished man looked through the glass into the containment chamber. His hands flew to and fro, rather like frightened pigeons, reflecting his agitation. With long brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail, the man's glasses were askew, his eyes open wide. There were dark circles under his eyes, indicating that he had not slept in days, but whether due to dedication to his work or fear remained to be seen. A small animal with red eyes and horns perched on his shoulder. Across from him, a second man spoke, causing the first to jump.

"Yes. It would appear this one wants to live more than her predecessors. See that the genomes give her the proper knowledge, nothing unnecessary mind you, and see that she is outfitted properly. I want to see her in training in the month." This man, taller and slimmer than the other, turned to where various machines beeped and promptly tuned out the other man's quibbling. This doctor was so very irritating, couldn't he just silently follow orders? In hundreds of years, very few had managed to annoy him to this extent. The doctor needed constant approval, constant orders. Truly, he was _this far_ from just slitting the doctors damn throat himself, minions be damned. Heading a group of trained killers was very strenuous, and left him with very little patience for dealing with fools.

"A month? Great One, I'm not sure we can even cover half-" a heavier voice cut in, commanding silence from the frazzled ponytail.

"He said a month, Dr. Desmond. Cut anything nonessential. Speech, anything beyond basic math, literacy. Give us a killing machine. Set the parameters for the genomes and return to Cadmus. Project Kr needs to take full priority now." A bulky man with three scars on his face, one crossing over his mouth, spoke from farther back in the room. He looked at the doctor with disdain. This man was the linchpin to their perfect weapon? God help them all. If Luthor hadn't recommended him, Savage would never have taken a second look. He tried to avoid looking at the weak little man anyhow. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to be in Bialya by noon tomorrow. Ra's, as always, it has been a pleasure. Until our next meeting."

The slender man looked up at this, inclining his head and saying "Until then, Savage. Give my regards to Queen Bee. Cheshire," Ra's said, causing a dark-haired woman with a grinning cat mask to drop from the ceiling, "escort the good doctor to his plane after he finishes with the genomes. And doctor?" Desmond looked up nervously. "One month."

As he was being escorted out, Dr. Desmond couldn't help feeling impossibly small. These people did not need him, but he needed them. His life's work, it was far too important to not have funding for. Blockbuster needed to be finished, and then… then they would see who had impossible deadlines. His eyes narrowed with grim determination.

Back in the building, beyond the one-sided glass of the observation room, a naked young woman pondered her surroundings. They were sterile, save the bodies of others who, even though she did not realize it, shared her face and DNA. She ignored these, not realizing their significance, but looking instead at her hands, wondering wordlessly why they moved when she wanted them to. But while she pondered this, she also noticed that each breath came more easily, she didn't have to think as hard to make her arms and legs move, and after a moment she was well on her way to sitting up. She looked about sixteen, with sharp golden-brown eyes, blonde fuzz for hair, full lips, and a mildly beaky nose. She was by no means beautiful, but the word attractive could be applied to her without much exaggeration. Her body was toned, without the atrophy that plagued most of her senior clones. She wasn't short by any stretch of the imagination, when she stood she would be almost 5'8, but the way she held herself, like a small child learning to crawl, made her seem so much more fragile than she was.

During her scan of the room, she saw little things crouching in the corners, with some things on them hurting the things she looked out of they were so bright. Soon after her thinking thing started to hurt, and moments later she was unconscious on the floor, her seeing things closed. But still one thought pounded through her subconscious and consciousness: _know._ Even as fighting maneuvers were pumped into her brain and personality pumped out, she clung to the burning lust for knowledge.

* * *

Two months later: LoS, Taipei, 1430 hours.

The young woman from the observation room floor crouched on a beam above two men talking rapidly. Under her mentor Sportsmaster's nose, she had figured out how to make sounds from her throat, but translating them into language took more capability than she naturally had. Her main plan of action was to stalk anyone in the LoS to try and mimic the shapes they made with their mouths. But they talked so fast! She did get the shape made the most; she would have to show Sportsmaster later. She looked at the round thing on the wall with the lines pointing to the numbers, and saw the lines pointing to the positions that they were when she was supposed to be hitting things, with Sportsmaster yelling at her for some reason. She knew he'd yell more at her today, he always got very angry when the lines reached a certain point for some reason. She scampered from one beam to the other, heading to the hitting-things-room. It was really big; it took her a lot of jumps to cross end-to-end when she was taking big jumps and less jumps from side-to-side (She checked one night when Sportsmaster was not there)

When she reached the hitting-things-room, she saw Sportsmaster looking really angry in the corner. She quietly made her way over. Sure, he looked really angry right now, but when she breathed out her new mouth shape, he was bound to cheer up, right? She was hiding behind a column when he started yelling really loud at a couple of people who seemed to be doing nothing wrong. They were just standing really close together, and the guy seemed to be eating something on the girl's face. It looked odd, but she couldn't see anything wrong with it. She carefully stepped out from behind her column, gently tapped on Sportsmaster's shoulder, made a face that she had learned meant someone was feeling good (pulling up the corners of her mouth. It felt weird the first few times, but she got used to it), and breathed in, before making the proper shape and breathing out.

"Sheeyat." No! NO THAT WAS WRONG! He was looking at her strangely! She blushed, took another breath in, flattened her mouth, and tried again.

"Shet." Closer, but not quite. Everyone was looking at her now, even the guy who had been eating the thing off the girl's face. One more time! She breathed in, tears filling up her eyes, sniffled, and breathed out.

"Shit." She made it! The turning up of the corners of her mouth felt more natural this time, and she brimmed with pride. She looked up at Sportsmaster to see if she did well, only to see his face turning the color of a sunset, only with blotches of color more like the night sky. But while both of those separately made her feel like jumping out of her window and not falling, ever, Sportsmaster's face looked like a very ugly thing. She looked down at the flat things at the end of her legs she stood on, her face turning the same color as Sportsmaster's, just without the night sky color. She turned around and started running out of the hitting-things-room.

Sportsmaster stayed, fuming. Where had the thing learned that word? It wasn't supposed to be able to talk. Hell, it shouldn't have been able to think! When Ra's al Ghul gave him the job of training 24, he thought it would be easy. Strength training, teaching it how to use the fancy techniques the genomes gave it, but not dealing with its first period, (it was physically sixteen for God's sake! Couldn't the genomes have slipped something like that into its mind? He was going to kill Desmond) or how to properly dress, or anything like that. God, it was like having toddlers again, mixed with having teenagers. Artemis was bad enough, but Jade, being the oldest and the test child, was nothing short of painful. And now 24. He needed a break.

The girl didn't leave her room for the rest of the day.

* * *

AAAAAND IT'S CHAPTER ONE, LADIES AND GENTS!

Hope you enjoyed it, come back for more and R&R! It feeds the souls I keep in jars on my wall! Who knows, I may have one of yours... to ensure that it doesn't die, review... or live soullessly, like the people who cut YJ...


	2. Jane

A/N: And there is another! I have up to Chapter Three, so I'll post that tomorrow and hopefully get crack-a-lackin on Chapter Four!

* * *

Three months after: LoS, Taipei, 2330 hours.

The girl sat in her small room. She hadn't talked in front of others since the "shit" fiasco (fiasco had become one of her more favored words). Instead, she decided to practice more before speaking. She stole out of the compound to find books (another favored word) that could teach her to talk. She also kept up her stalking of the other members of the LoS. Sportsmaster hadn't talked about the incident as far as she could tell, but some members of the LoS had made little squeaky sounds when she entered a room for a while. The squeaky sounds make her irritated. But they strengthened her resolve (a new word from a big red book with the word "Webster's" on it. What was a "Webster's?"), and she practiced making the sounds with the people (one of the first words she learned) who lived on the sides of the flat area where the noisy moving pieces of metal went back and forth (one had nearly hit her on her first night out). She made the "letters" as they were called, with the help of the lady from the big building that had a lot of books, and was well on her way to making "words." She was looking forward to it.

Tonight, however, she had something else to take care of. The other humans her age (or was it "era?" She always got those mixed up) at the LoS dropped a thing full of water on her head earlier that day, and she had heard from one of her friends who lived on the sides of the flat thing with the noisy moving metal a good way to "get them back." She didn't know what he meant by this, but he said to try it anyway. She decided to go ahead. She snuck into the eating-room (the others called it a "cafeteria") and past it into the cooking-room (she knew this was a "kitchen," but it just didn't sound right). Once there, she set to work. It was actually surprisingly easy, just moving the fridge was bothersome.

The next morning, she set out to the eating-room with a bit more gusto than usual. Her friend on the side of the street (she looked it up last night) said to get something that wasn't perishable (she had asked what this meant, he wrote it down for her and said to look it up in the Webster's book, which she did. She then looked up the "definition" of Webster. There was nothing). Following his advice, she made a beeline (she didn't understand the origin of this word. She read a book on bees, and they fly erratically, in a language known only to their kind) for the sandwiches. She was unable to notice any sign of the "prank" she had "pulled" (she would never understand modern language). She got a sandwich with peanut butter and jelly (she was pretty sure they weren't perishable), gazing at the eggs and milk. She saw the boy (those were the ones who were more curvy and often had longer hair, right? Wait, those were girls) who had dropped the thing of water on her, dig into her breakfast (eggs and cereal), only to stand and clutch at her throat.

"POISON! POISON IN THE EGGS!" The young woman merely snickered into her sandwich. There was no poison. Her eyes snapped open. Right? She had just pulled the refrigerator's plug out of the socket (it was socket, right?) and moved the refrigerator back into place. There… there wouldn't be any poison, right? She had to find her friend on the side of the street. He would know. She quietly finished her sandwich and went into the "training" room (she was still getting used to calling it that). Sportsmaster worked her harder than usual today. Did he know about the "prank?" He couldn't have. She was a master at sneaking out of her room. Unless he knew about the books too… she started to worry. Her books were her treasures. They were the only things she really owned. He wouldn't take them away. Would he? By the end of the day she was getting frantic. When she snuck out of the compound, she made a swift route to her friend who told her about the prank.

"Patch? You are here?"

"It's 'are you here' if you're asking a question, Plain Jane." Plain Jane. That was his "nick-name" for her. She didn't fully understand it, because there was no definition in the Webster book for "Jane." "Plain" meant "1 not decorated or elaborate; simple or ordinary in character, 2 easy to perceive or understand; clear," or "3 (of a person) not beautiful or attractive." She hoped he didn't mean number three. It was irrational, but she wanted to be pretty. But the meaning of "Jane" continued to be lost to her.

"Patch, that prank you told me about yesterday?" She hoped her voice wouldn't show her nerves too much.

"What is it PJ?" Patch's voice was never kind, but the man tried to vary his levels of irritation. He was built, with a white ponytail and beard, even though he wasn't that old, as far as the young woman could tell. Her name for him came from the patch he had over his right eye.

"Well- I do not think I'm speaking this correct- but it was" she paused for a moment, searching for the word. Patch stayed silent, used to the common word finding. She spoke up again. "Safe. Safe right? I did not really hurt any of the people?" Patch laughed. She didn't think it was a nice sound. It was more like (what was the substance?) gravel hitting tin, but at a lower pitch.

"PJ, you're too nice for the League of Shadows. Yes, they'll be fine, they'll just be miserable for a while. And the girl who shouted about poison will have trouble showing her face for a while." The girl looked up.

"How did you know about her? Do you have friends in the league?" Again Patch started laughing. "Would you please stop laughing? It's-" pause. "Unnerving."

"Unnerving? Getting to the big words, aren't'cha? I have eyes everywhere. Now, you still have to make the rounds to the rest of us street people, and it's getting late. You heard me, now git, PJ!"

"…Okay, Patch. May I see you tomorrow? So I can practice some more?"

"Maybe. We'll see. Night, Plain Jane."

The next morning proved to be uneventful, save for the perishable foods going untouched. But when the girl reported for her afternoon training session, Sportsmaster seemed to be deep in conversation with another man wearing a black and orange outfit and mask, with a white ponytail. Not wishing to interrupt and wishing to snoop, she hid behind a pillar. Sportsmaster sounded really angry. Like when she had spoken in front of him.

"You're telling me that you want to take over with this thing? It's a pain in the ass! Thinking, making up fighting maneuvers I'm sure some of the other apprentices couldn't do! That thing's on a fast track to termination!" Termination. She would have to see if she could look that up later. Apprentices too.

"Do you want to keep training her?" The other man's voice was muffled through the mask but it sounded familiar. From somewhere, she just could not remember where. She pondered stepping out from her pillar (she had hidden behind it so many times in the past months she considered it hers) and decided against it.

"God, no! I just want to make sure that you know what you're getting into. Don't come whining when you decide it's too much for you to handle." She heard Sportsmaster stomp away, and decided to meet her new (what was it?) handler. Stepping out from the pillar, she bowed from the waist, not looking up at the masked man. She heard him taking off his mask, and felt a hand on her shoulder.

"That's enough of that. Less bowing, more practicing." She stood up, but kept her eyes on the floor, just like Sportsmaster taught her to do. The no-longer-masked man talked to her again, his voice less gruff than before. "Come one, PJ. You know I ain't gonna hurt ya."

"Patch?" the girl looked up at her side-of-the-street friend confusedly.

"Sorta. Here I go by Deathstroke. Or Slade, if that's easier to pronounce."

"Slade…" she tried out the new shape. "I think I like that better than Deathstroke."

"Good. Now listen, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. Lord Al Ghul gave me permission to both teach you and train you, so long as training comes first. You slack on training, no more words. Do well, and you get both words and numbers." His next sentence was cut off by the girl's exclamation.

"Numbers? You mean like math?" she asked. He nodded. It took all of her restraint to not squeal. But she couldn't keep herself from jumping up and down. Slade watched amusedly for a moment before grabbing her arm and flipping her over his shoulder onto the floor, knocking the wind out of her.

"Yes, like math. If you practice, got it?" she looked blank-faced at him for a moment, before using her free arm to strike his jaw, and kneeing the elbow of the arm holding her down. They continued in this vein for what felt like a few minutes, with him executing a hold and her breaking it, only talking when Slade gave her criticism. It was only when Slade looked at the clock that he saw that nearly two hours had passed. Using this distraction, the girl jumped on his back and placed him in a headlock, surprising him.

"Seized you!" she said, grinning. He noticed her heavy breathing and the flush of her cheeks. She was excited, Sportsmaster had never trained with her like this and it was fun! Deathstroke quickly broke the hold, setting her down on her feet.

"The phrase is 'got you,' PJ. Come on, we need to get you some dinner. And while we do that we can work on spelling, 'kay?"

"Seized-" she caught herself. "Got it," she said grinning. Spelling was one of her favorite parts of learning to talk. She made the words her own when she wrote them out in her wobbly, giant hand. Even though she had trouble sometimes, she wanted to be master of the words. Maybe if she ever got away from this place she could find a job where she wrote every day. That would be nice. Her thoughts continued in this pattern while she showered and changed from her training clothes to cleaner ones.

While eating dinner in the cafeteria (Slade insisted she call it that) the girl and Slade went over the whole alphabet. She found this a bit repetitive, she knew it already, but he said that practice made perfect. While she was showing him the words she knew how to spell by memory, the girl who had shouted about poison the day before walked past the two and made a comment about 24 and how it would be gone soon enough, why bother teaching it to read? Slade looked up and said,

"She has a name, you know."

"Oh? What would that be? Boring Girl?"

"Joanna. Or Jane for short." Joanna-or-Jane-for-short looked up in confusion from her near-illegible "animal" and stared inquiringly at Slade. He signaled to her to "play along," as it was called. She started to nod her head cautiously. Poison girl (as Joanna-or-Jane-for-short was starting to call her) snorted.

"How long has she had that name? The past five seconds?"

"For about a month, actually. The Joanna bit is a new addition, but I've been calling her Plain Jane for a while now." Slade's voice grew more irritated (Jane had created a mental scale and he was currently at 8 out of 10) and poison girl started to cautiously back off, rather like she was caged with a dangerous animal.

"Well, if you say so." Poison girl scurried away in the most intimidating manner she could muster (which wasn't very intimidating). Jane looked at Slade.

"Joanna or Jane for short?" she asked inquisitively.

"Yep. What do you think? Can you learn to deal with it?" Joanna shrugged.

"I guess." Her tone was less than excited, but she was smiling. "I like Joanna. And I also like having a name. It's better than just being 24. That's all Sportsmaster ever called me. Not that there were many options." She remembered the word she had heard Sportsmaster saying earlier. "Slade?"

"Yeah, PJ?"

"What does 'termination' mean?" He looked at her a bit surprised. "I heard it when you were talking with Sportsmaster earlier." Still a stunned expression. "Is it a bad word or something?" He shook his head.

"No. Just… Didn't expect you to know that word. It means…" He looked at her curious, innocent face. The kid would have to find out sometime. He breathed in deeply, bracing himself. "It means to stop someone's life. To kill someone." Joanna's eyes widened. "Since you heard that particular word, I'm guessing you heard the rest of the conversation too." She nodded. She looked down, and her shoulders started shaking. There was an awkward pause, Slade not knowing what to do with a crying girl, and Joanna mulling over what she had learned. Teardrops fell on her legs, and she spoke up after a few minutes.

"I don't want to stop living," she said quietly. He cautiously wrapped her up in a hug.

"Don't worry PJ. I'm not gonna let them do that to ya. We're friends after all. I'll make sure you know everything you need to know." Her next word was barely more than a whisper.

"Okay."

"Good kid."

Same day: Ra's al Ghul's office

"It's going to prove to be a problem. I can feel it." Sportsmaster said urgently. "If you want to save us all the trouble, you'll just get rid of it now." Ra's spoke with patience to his more… impulsive officer.

"If she proves to be a problem, we will deal with her then. If not, then we will not waste unnecessary energy and resources." Sportsmaster looked fit to be tied. He was about to speak (something immensely foolish, no doubt) when Ra's cut him off. "Do not be presumptuous and think I will waste any time on her. But Deathstroke's reports of her sneaking out at night to meet the homeless and practicing speaking with them must be put to a stop. If her little jaunts are not curbed, the results could be disastrous. She could be seen; her being seen could lead to police intervention, and that could lead to Justice League intervention. As long as Deathstroke teaches her within the league's confines, I am fine with her learning, and so long as it doesn't affect the results of her training." Ra's looked evenly at Sportsmaster. "If you try to intervene, you will not go unpunished. Even if she is a clone, we have learned that she does have feelings, and if she is depressed, she will more than likely avoid training or throw herself into it. My guess would be the former. And, as I said before, I do not wish to use unnecessary time and resources for something that can be fixed in such a peaceful manner. We have already invested so much time and capital into her, it would be more useless and counterproductive than I like to think about. Dismissed." As Sportsmaster exited the room, Ra's pondered the fate of their little 24.

* * *

A/N: And the plot thickens... Hopefully *derp-de-derp* But hey, at least she's got a name now, right? Also!

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Because the more reviews, the better it will get. the faster I can update, then... LESS TIME BETWEEN CLIFFHANGERS!


	3. First

And we have hints of plot and a simple little warm-up conflict! Sorry this story is taking so long to get turbines to full speed, but I'm working on it! Also, decided to split the original Chapter Three into two chapters. **I AM THE AUTHOR I DO NOT GET QUESTIONED! **Read enjoy and love me... I mean, review. Wait, there isn't much of a difference there, is there?

**EDIT: **I noticed I accidentally skipped a chapter there. Fixed it. Chapter Three is now Chapter Four.

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Two months later: Grecian Embassy in Bosnia, 1200 hours

"Slade, are you sure this is the right place? It looks empty." Jane, dressed entirely in black with her blonde hair tucked under a ski cap, spoke quietly into her comm. unit.

"It's Deathstroke while we're in the field, PJ. And yeah, it does look quiet. Keep your eyes open. Recite the pertinent information."

"All of it?"

"Yes, PJ, all of it. You need to be thorough. Now, less whining, more reciting."

"Yes sir," Jane grumbled. "Target's name: Aegis D. Lasko. Client's name: Eurydice Palamara. Ties from client to target: successor in the case of Lasko's inability to fulfill his duties as ambassador. Palamara wants the position. She comes to us. We eliminate the competition. Palamara is new Grecian Ambassador. Security cameras have been looping for about thirty minutes now, if they noticed something off, they would have sounded the alarm by now. Guardsmen pass the east second-floor center window, our point of entry, every fifteen and a half minutes. They passed approximately five minutes ago. About ten minutes until they pass again. Time allotted to enter, complete mission and get out: twenty minutes. The jet is waiting in a clearing two miles away. Um…" She paused for a moment. "What came next?"

"How c-" He cut off the word before he finished it, giving a hint of the first syllable. Jane pondered this for a moment, before exclaiming a little "aha!" of comprehension.

"How cautious we should be: to quote you, very damn cautious. Get in, get out, get away (End quote). The target's room is down the first hallway on the left, the room with the mahogany door and the four-number keypad. The first three digits should be 902; the last digit shouldn't be too difficult to figure out. When the ambassador is-" she paused for a moment, finding her voice. "…dispatched, we exit the same way we came. Make it to the jet, you 'drive,' so to speak, home."

"Good. Any questions about the mission before we go in?" Jane considered for a moment.

"…No. Nothing that can't wait until later, anyway." Deathstroke looked skeptically in her direction.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Then get ready, we need to wait for the guards to make the next round. Then we go in."

"Yes sir." A few feet away, Jane steadied her nerves. Her first mission had to go well. Otherwise… termination. It was selfish, she knew that, but if she could live by killing someone else, she would do it. She steeled herself, and when the guards passed the window about seven minutes later, she crept across the yard from the hedge line to the space below the window. She threw a rappelling line to the ledge, and started working her way up the wall.

Once on the sill, she looked over at Deathstroke, still hidden in the shrubbery. Getting a device out of her belt, she cut a hole in the window, about three feet by three feet. She caught it before it hit the floor, soundlessly set it down, and crawled through the window. Setting it back in the opening, she checked to make sure it was secure. When looking in passing, the patrollers would see nothing but a fine line of white, nothing to grab their attention. She took a bottle of spray-on glue and sealed the window shut. With one last look at Deathstroke, she moved into the shadows on the other side of the hall. She turned into the first hallway on the left, keeping her senses on full.

"Just in case you couldn't tell, I'm in," she whispered into her comm. unit. "Haven't seen any guards yet, watching for any movement. I don't think they patrol anything besides the perimeter of the building. Wait, I've got two coming down the hallway. They just stopped in front of the ambassador's room." She crept behind a dais with a vase on top of it, facing the two men. The house was dark enough that if she didn't leave the pedestal's shadow, nobody would see her. She waited for five minutes, but the sentries didn't move. "I'm going to have to take them down. They don't look like they'll be moving from their post anytime soon. Any pearls of wisdom?"

"Don't get caught. And take them down simultaneously, if you can."

"Yes, sir. Moving now." Jane looked up. The ceiling, she now noticed, had beams going from side-to-side, about seven feet up. She did quick mental calculations. She was 5' 9. The dais next to her was about three feet. The moon was behind a cloud, darkening the house even more. She quietly picked up the vase and climbed onto the dais. She placed it on the rafter closest, and pulled herself up. She commenced jumping from beam to beam, vase in hand, until she was almost right above the sentries. She dropped down directly behind them, cracking their heads together in a swift movement. She broke the vase against the wall, placing part of the rim in one soldier's hand, and arranging the two to look like they had fought instead of been knocked out.

While doing so, she found a small piece of paper with numbers on it on one of the soldiers. In the darkness she couldn't see what it said very well, so she turned it towards the light coming down the hallway.

"Deathstroke? I found some kind of paper on one of the men. It says 9-5-" She squinted for a moment, "wait, that's a two. 9-2-either a three or an eight-0. I think it's the pass code for the door. Should I try it?" There was silence for a moment.

"Try it, but be ready to get out of there at a moment's notice. And make sure you scan for silent alarms."

"Got it." Looking at the door, Jane tried the combination, first with a three. The door unlocked with a click. She tried the handle, opening the door soundlessly. Tip-toeing into the room, she saw her target asleep, the only light coming from a… night-light? Was the ambassador scared of the dark? She looked more closely at the side of the room with the light. It was plugged into the wall, next to a bassinet. Creeping over, she looked inside. A baby, no more than six months old. Jane's head whipped around to stare at the bed. A man, the ambassador she assumed, and a woman. His wife.

"Deathstroke… why did you never tell me he had a family?" the line was silent. She tremulously checked that it was on, deciding that the room was interfering with the signal. Her panicked mind instinctively went back to what cold-bloodedness she had leftover from her Cadmus brainwashing. Ice seemed to fill her veins. Finish the mission. Get out. Ignore the others. She pulled a syringe from her belt, filled it with chloroform. Poised it over the ambassador's neck, finding the jugular vein. Plunged the needle in. she was about to inject it, when a small whimper came from the bassinet. Her head spun toward the child. The mother stirred. Jane needed to finish the mission and get out. Fast. Eliminating the baby would give her more time, but it probably would start crying the moment she looked at it. Her upper lip curled in disgust. She turned back to the father – no, the ambassador, and emptied the syringe; placed it back into her belt. She moved back to the door, opened it a hair. Nobody outside except for the two men she had knocked out.

The baby mewled again. The mother stirred more noticeably this time. She had to get out. Now. She opened the door a bit more. Still nobody. She crept out the door, and down the hall. Hiding behind the corner of the wall, she heard voices coming around the corner. Two of them. She fingered the knife strapped to her thigh. One swift motion, just like the genomes taught her, and she wouldn't have to worry about them anymore. But it would be a hassle to hide the bodies, and it would waste time. She plastered herself to the wall as the two patrolling men passed her by without a second glance. When they turned the next corner, she sprang from her hiding place, and ran to the opening she had made in the window. Using her knife, she gently pried the cut glass from its place, and climbed out. She placed the glass back where it belonged, and sealed it again. Then she ran over the courtyard back to where Deathstroke was waiting.

"It's done." She spoke without emotion, seemingly uncaring. Slade looked at her. He knew most recruits weren't nearly as okay after their first missions, and since he had gotten to know Joanna, he figured she would be in tears. He looked her over, checking for wounds, but finding none. Her demeanor, on the other hand, was nothing at all like her usual cheery if chatty self. While her eyes were normally warm and bright, they had frosted over, becoming cold and seemingly lifeless. Oh. So she was going to be one of those kinds of assassins. Crap.

"Come on, PJ, let's get back to the plane before someone sees us."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

I have thought it over, and decided. REVIEWS ARE LOVE! Give me reviews and you're proclaiming undying love for me. So dooooooo iiiiiiiit.


	4. What?

Chapter Four formerly known as Chapter Three! I will try to avoid this in the future. Sorry for all who didn't get the chapter missing (you're supposed to read my mind, silly people! Don't you know that?) but it's up now!

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Next day: LoS, Taipei, 0800 hours.

After getting back to the LoS, Joanna crashed. Slade had to carry her to her room and get her to bed. But he could have sworn he heard quiet sniffling as he walked away.

She wasn't up even around eleven hundred hours. Alright. Let her have a day off. Her first mission, and a seven-hour plane ride going over the particulars of said mission, would drain anyone. Let her have a breather. Slade was having a nice (meaning less irritating than usual) day, when he was called into Ra's al Ghul's office.

"Yes, Great One?" he asked respectfully as he entered the room. Ra's looked up from a paper, and held up a hand to indicate he needed a moment. After pondering the paper a moment longer, he spoke deliberately and cautiously.

"I have word here from a source inside the U.N. saying that Grecian ambassador Lasko has been murdered in his sleep. They have not announced it publicly yet, but they became aware of it this morning when his wife awoke to feed their baby and found her husband dead on his pillow. The closest thing they've come to a suspect is a guard outside the doorway who seemingly attacked his fellow sentry, who resisted, until they were both unconscious. This seemed too good to be true until it was when one of the guards woke up and explained that they both had been at their post until he fell unconscious, presumably at the same time as his fellow. I went looking through the records to see who had the job until I found it was you, who happened to bring dear little 24 along to show her how to work in the field. I suspect she was the one doing more of the showing and you simply followed her progress?" During this time, Ra's' voice had grown less calm and more irritated.

"Yes, sir. I brought along Jo-" he paused a moment. Ra's raised an eyebrow. "24 along on the mission to examine her performance in real-life situations. She planned the timing, the mode of entry, and the method of killing. I gave an occasional reminder of better options, but the overall plan was orchestrated by 24 herself. She reported back to me regularly while going through the mission. I was standing by to intervene in case things went sour. And- here's the important part- they didn't. The only snag she hit was the two guards outside the ambassador's room. She is exceedingly talented and, forgive me, but I think she could become a vital part of the League of Shadows. But that's only if she can expand her talents beyond the normal parameters set for the new trainees. I understand you insist to everyone that they don't treat her as a normal girl, and on some levels she isn't, I'll agree, but I think you keep forgetting that yourself. She is a normal girl on the mental scale, if a bit naïve, but on the physical scale? It would honestly surprise me if she couldn't hold her own in an honest battle with her superiors, something any normal sixteen-year-old would find impossible." Slade took a breath, and seemed to realize what he just said. "Forgive my impudence, sir. I am more irritable (than usual) today. But please, think about what I said." Ra's laced his fingers together and looked at Slade for a moment before speaking.

"Very well. Cheshire will measure her abilities in a match this afternoon."

"A match? Sir, I-"

"A sparring match, Deathstroke. Simply to gauge her skill. And there is also a function from Cadmus that I wanted to test. This afternoon, in the training hall. I will also be watching. I assure you, Deathstroke, the girl will walk away unharmed. In fact, if Dr. Desmond has met all my specifications, I would honestly worry more about Jade. And, speaking of Jade, have you heard anything about her …unprofessional relationship with our wayward little Red Arrow? I know you have ears everywhere. Understand, I would ask Sportsmaster first, but he and Jade are not on the best of terms, last I remember."

"It's not normally my business, sir, but I have heard that she's going out with someone named Harper. Didn't catch his first name, but doubt he'll be a problem."

"Yes, thank you, Deathstroke. That will be all for now. Be sure to bring 24 to the training hall at 1600 hours." Deathstroke almost threw a pleading look in Ra's direction, but seemed to think better of it, remembering his previous argument that she wasn't a normal girl.

"Yes sir. She'll be there." He left the room. Ra's leaned back in his plush chair, weary of the world. He pressed a button on his desk, speaking clearly.

"Jade? I need you to test a recruit of ours. You remember 24?" He released the button. Soon Jade's voice came through the speaker next to it.

"Yes, sir. You need me to test her, you said?"

"Yes. 1600 hours. That will be all."

"Yes sir." The line went dead. Ra's stood and turned to a door in the paneling of his back wall. He opened it, entering into a room with six screens. He spoke to one of them in specific, contacting the man on the other end of the line.

"Luthor? Are you there?" A moment of silence passed, before a tired voice came on the speakers behind the screen, a bald man appearing on it.

"What is it Ra's? I'm rather busy at the minute."

"Yes, my apologies for interrupting you, but I wished to speak with you a moment. You remember 24, yes?" Luthor nodded wearily. "I am going to be testing her …special abilities today. I knew you were in Taipei, and I was wondering if you might want to come take a look. If only to escape the monotony of paperwork."

"I might." Luthor turned from his screen. "Mercy, clear everything this afternoon, please." He turned back to Ra's. "I'll be there. When?"

"4 o'clock. I look forward to seeing you then." He exited the room, closing the paneling behind him. "Sportsmaster? I know you're there." Sportsmaster irritably dropped from the ceiling. "I want you up on the walk with me when we test little 24's abilities. There is something I need you to do for me…"

Elsewhere…

Walking down the hallway to Jane's room, Slade silently berated himself for even taking her on this mission. What had he been thinking? Successful or not, Ra's would have found out about the mission and her coming along. He should just be thankful that they both got off so easily. Just a sparring match. Cheshire would get some bruises, Jane would get some bruises, they would both walk away. No sweat. So why was he so worried? He got to Jane's door and went in.

"Come on PJ, time to get up." This was received with some indignant mumbling. "Let's get going, Jane. Lord Al Ghul wants to test your skills in a match later. We've got about three hours before you need to be there, so let's get you some breakfast-" he looked at the clock. "-Lunch, okay?"

"Slade?" came a little voice from the bed. Slade went into oh-no-she's-using-the-sad-voice mode almost automatically. He sat down on the side of her bed, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and said in his nicest voice,

"Yeah, PJ?" Sniffle. Sniffle-sniffle. "PJ?" Pause.

"Why didn't you tell me he had a family?" Another pause. Slade looked guilty a moment, before answering.

"I thought it would be easier if you didn't know. I didn't expect the wife and kid to be there. If you found out later, it wouldn't change anything, and you wouldn't endanger yourself and the mission." Jane sat up, eyes red and puffy, and her nose running. Her chin trembled. And then it all exploded.

"The mission? I don't _care_ about the mission! If I had gotten caught, my first thought would be to get out! Not 'oh, don't tell them anything so it doesn't lead back to the league'. No, I would have wanted to get out like a bat out of hell! Look how many rats' asses-" at this she was quickly cut off by Slade.

"Watch your mouth young lady!"

"Don't talk to me like that! You're not my dad! I don't have a dad, so you can't be mine! Get out of my room!" Slade puffed up in anger, and looked about to say something. He opened his mouth. Joanna narrowed her eyes. "Get. Out." Slade stared a moment, before he stood up and crossed to the door. Just before he left, he stopped.

"Training hall, 1600 hours. You have a sparring match with Cheshire." Slam.

After he had gone, Jane curled up into a little cocoon of blankets and started sniffling again. What was wrong with her? She was mad at Slade for keeping the family from her, true, but not as mad as she'd acted. And even though she knew it was around "that time", as Sportsmaster called it, it didn't make her this angry. She hoped he could forgive her. She hadn't meant it. She'd have to apologize later. She got out of bed, went to the bathroom and washed her face, and got dressed. She really hoped Slade and herself could get over this soon.

She felt miserable.

Slade, while this was happening, was fuming. That… that… brat! He was trying to protect her from pain and what did he get for that? Insults and anger. See if he tried to help her again. But he wasn't able to lie to himself about why he was really mad. No, he wasn't the kid's biological father. No, she didn't have a biological father. But did that condone what she had said? Telling the kid to watch her mouth had been a sort of an automatic reaction, left over from Rose. Rose… he cut that line of thought off quickly. Rose only led to frustration and guilt. And, even though he would never admit it, grief. No, better to be angry. Angry was safe.

So she didn't want his help? Fine. She wouldn't get it. She could find a new mentor. Someone who wasn't as understanding, who didn't help her with her spelling, who didn't laugh at her pathetic attempts at joking. Jane – 24, he corrected himself, would just have to deal with whomever she got next. Boo-freakin-hoo. He was stomping around his room merrily when his gaze shifted to a really, really crappy picture Joanna had drawn for him. He remembered the event, about a month ago, when she had come running up to him, paper in hand. The light in her eyes, when she gave it to him. The memory brought another one bubbling to the surface of his mind. Rose, toddling toward him. He shook himself back into the present, and picked up the paper off the floor. He moved to crush it in his hand, but just before he did, he seemed to think better of it. He collapsed onto his bed, hand over his eyes. Jane had been so proud of the damn crayon scrawl. It wasn't anything special, really. But the way she looked so happy, as she gave it to him, he thought she was going to explode into …candy, or something. He missed the kid; he was man enough to admit it. Not aloud, no, but to himself? Yes.

He felt miserable.

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And we end on a depressing note. Also, yes in my headcanon Rose exists. Her fate is still as of yet unknown to me, though, so don't expect her to physically show up soon! Hope to get Chapter five up by the weekend. It's not likely.


	5. Spark plus Gasoline

Gah! Finished this chapter at 11:30! I'm gonna be dead tomorrow. All for my beautiful readers! I love you, my darlings!

... I'm loopy from exhaustion.

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1600 hours:

Sportsmaster stood next to Ra's on the walk overlooking the training hall. The space, which normally held dummies (living and rubber) and other such training equipment, had been cleared for the scrap. Ra's voice cut through the murmur around them.

"You understand your purpose in this, correct?" Sportsmaster inclined his head, with a muttered acknowledgement. He didn't like this, not one bit. Remote control people? It sounded like it was more likely to fry his brain than superimpose it over hers. Lex Luthor chose that moment to come waltzing in, his bodyguard hot on his heels. Damn if the woman didn't have a nice ass. Maybe Sportsmaster could "borrow" her for a moment later. Ladies always liked the tough ones. Thought they could soften him up. It never happened. Sportsmaster was in the middle of a very happy daydream when Ra's commanded silence in the room.

"You are all here for reasons unknown to me, seeing how you should all be practicing something elsewhere, but I am not in a mood to force you to leave. Stay off the training mats is all I will say. Cheshire," he said, lowering his voice, "go on down, start warming up. 24 will likely be here in a moment." He looked up just as he saw Deathstroke coming down the hallway. "Ah, Slade. Glad you could join us. I'm sure 24 will live up to what her handler has been saying about her. Sportsmaster, go put the helmet on, please."

On the floor level of the Training hall:

Jane made her way down the hallway, determined to not give an ounce away of the nervousness she was feeling. So what if she was fighting essentially alone? Nothing Cadmus hadn't trained her to face. She schooled her features into something she hoped resembled a disinterested face. No need to give Cheshire the advantage that way. Before she stepped into the room, she stopped her chin from trembling.

Jade stood out on the mats, looking irritated. Why did she have to fight this kid? She would never go against an order from the Great One himself, but that didn't mean she had to have a good attitude about it. She saw her "dad" (if she could even call him that) up on the balcony, with some stupid looking helmet on. What the hell? She decided to ignore it. The girl she was supposed to be fighting stepped into the ring. This scrawny kid had Slade's approval? Fine. She exhaled slowly. "Ready, Great One. You, kid?" The girl nodded her head. Ra's spoke over the clamor.

"Begin!"

Jane mentally retreated into the training she had from Cadmus. It was starting to become something of a panic room for her mind. The change in her demeanor was imperceptible to all except Slade, who noticed the bunching of her muscles and the change in her eyes from warm to icy. _Poor Jade… _He glanced over at Sportsmaster and thatstupid looking helmet. Sportsmaster chose that moment to fall on the floor. Al Ghul ignored it, so Slade decided if Lord al Ghul didn't care, he wouldn't either. He turned his eyes back to the fight. Something seemed wrong with Jane, though. Her movements were looser, her eyes more alert. In fact, the way she was standing reminded him almost of… Sportsmaster? That didn't make any sense. Jane hated the guy. Why would she emulate him? Was this just because he was her first handler? Slade looked over at Sportsmaster's unconscious body. And that stupid helmet… The truth came barreling at Slade like a ton of bricks.

"Lord al Ghul?" Ra's looked up. Oh, dear. Slade had that protective glint in his eye. Truly the man was frustrating sometimes. He just hoped that this would be quick. The helmet seemed to be working in order. He wanted to make sure it stayed that way.

"Yes, Deathstroke? Please, keep it quick. I want to get back to the match as soon as possible." Slade forced himself to something resembling calm.

"Yes, sir. I simply wanted to know if you are out of mind, that's all." Ra's' mouth twitched.

"I believe I misheard you. What did you say?"

"If you are out of your mind, sir. Why else would you force Sportsmaster mind into Jane's body?"

"Jane? Do you mean 24?"

"No, sir, I mean Jane. Her full name is Joanna Marie, and when I get the paperwork filled out entirely, Wilson." Ra's looked almost aghast. "Yes, sir, I am talking in an insubordinate manner. And when I come to my senses, I will probably regret this. But right now, I am too mad to freakin' care. Nobody, I repeat, nobody takes my kid's mind and plays ping pong with it. Period, exclamation point. You will get Sportsmaster out of there now, or God help me, I will." Ra's had the grace to look less than comfortable.

"I'm afraid I can't. The idea is that whoever wears the helmet has an almost permanent body takeover. Only with the help of a psychic or telepath would a return be possible."

"Then get Psimon down here!"

"Psimon is currently drooling in a hospital bed I know not where!"

"The Martian witch who did that to him then!"

"Do you think the League would really appreciate that? What about 'shadows' do you not understand, Deathstroke?" Slade made a move towards Ra's. "Talia? Would you mind holding Deathstroke until he regains his composure?" A woman of about thirty dropped from the ceiling, as was the habit among the shadows, landing on Deathstroke, effectively pinning him to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Slade. Believe me, I disagree with this as much as you." She said as she held his arms behind his back. "But we must all follow orders, no?" Ra's turned to Luthor.

"My apologies, my friend. I'm sorry you had to see that. Shall we return to the fight?"

"Certainly Ra's. And it's not a problem, really. Discipline issues give people the chance to show their character. But remind me, what is the purpose of this young lady's extra features?"

"If we can get her into the Justice League? She will be possibly the most useful sleeper agent for the Light. She has no idea that she can be controlled, and therefore the League telepaths will not know. And unlike the Cadmus programming, this cannot be washed out of her mind."

"I see. Clever." With that, the two men turned their attentions back to the ground floor.

On the floor level of the Training hall:

Jade was getting seriously irritated. This kid thought that she could intimidate Jade by acting like Sportsmaster? It was working damn well. Jade gave the kid points for a strategy like that. With one hit for every point. She heard yelling from the balcony. Deathstroke was yelling at Lord al Ghul for some reason or another. Then Talia fell on him. Her lips quirked into a smile. Unfortunately, the kid noticed the break in her concentration and used it as an opening to get a hit in on her jaw.

"Never turn your back on the enemy, little girl." Jade hit back with equal ferocity. The line had been crossed.

"Quit acting like my dad, alright? It's gotten old." The kid grinned back evilly.

"Who said I was acting, little girl?" Jade refused to let that get to her. "Helll-lllp!" The girl's face switched from malevolent joy to panic then back to malevolent joy again. It was that, which startled Jade.

"What?" She did not get an answer, however, because the girl suddenly dropped to the floor, convulsing, her hands clutching at her head.

"Hey… Kid?" Jade tried to get a coherent response from the girl, who was clearly in pain. She kept saying nonsense words, and no matter how Jade tried to make sense of them, she couldn't.

In Jane's mind:

The mindscape Jane had was something of a combination of League facilities, the library, and a giant metal box labeled "Kahdmuhs". At the moment Sportsmaster was on one side of the plane, Jane; on the opposite. Both looked beaten up, Jane more so. Sportsmaster narrowed his eyes.

"Get out of the way, now." Jane narrowed her eyes as well, and propelled herself towards Sportsmaster.

"No way in hell, old man!" She yelled as hit him in the stomach. Her next sentence had each word enunciated by a blow. "No – way – in – heaven – hell – or – earth!" Her next hit was caught by him.

"Think again, you bitch." He didn't let go of her hand, instead using it to pull her back after each of his attacks. "You will surrender control to me right now or I will kill you in the most painful way I know how." She looked him in the eye. She wasn't going to deny it, she was scared out of her mind right now, but with her chin trembling beyond what she thought was possible, she looked him in the eye and said, clear as day;

"Go to hell, you bastard." She spit in his eye. He grinned. So she did have some spirit. That would have to be fixed.

"Wrong answer, little whore. I'm going to make it really painful now." and with that, he pulled off her arm.

Outside Jane's mind:

She screamed even louder. Talia was still sitting on Deathstroke, so he couldn't do anything about it, but he heard Jane's cries. When he got free… Lord help them all if his little girl was hurt beyond external wounds. Ra's had technicians up on the balcony, trying to fix the problem, and Luthor was watching with some interest. Mercy stood, left hand on her right forearm. Slade determinedly went through the weaknesses for each and how to utilize them, waiting until his chance came.

Inside Jane's mind:

Sportsmaster was ripping into her with animal ferocity. It being her mind, her limbs regenerated with speed, but then he would just rip them off again. Arm, arm, leg, arm, other leg, arm, another arm. Would it ever end? Tears were streaming down her cheeks; her voice was getting sore. She just wanted it to stop. Stop, stop, stopstopstopstopstopSTOP! She kicked out mentally with more force than she thought she had, and effectively sending Sportsmaster flying away from her. Her lost limbs grew back, and her resolve strengthened her. She would not let herself go through that again. Her eyes hardened to steel. Sportsmaster, now across the mindscape, looked at her. He started to propel himself toward her, when she looked his way.

"Get out of my head, you sonofabitch." With that, she sent out a psychic force field. As it approached Sportsmaster, he had only one thing to say.

"Shit."

Outside Jane's mind (again):

Deathstroke was happily thinking up "way to kill Ra's for good number 17" when Jane's screams stopped. His head shot up, hitting Talia's face on the way. Over to his left, Sportsmaster took a rattling breath before sitting up and taking off the helmet.

"Holy shit. The bitch can hit." Deathstroke, with Talia temporarily disoriented from the head-facing, broke her hold and moved to where he could comfortably throttle Sportsmaster. His good eye was flaming, his grip on Sportsmaster's throat unbreakable. When he spoke, it was through a clenched jaw.

"If you did anything to her, you bastard, I will castrate you in the most painful way possible, kill anything or anyone you ever cared about, burn your feet, cut off your ears, and then and only then will I kill you. I will make you wish you had never been born. I will–" whatever he was going to say next was cut off by Ra's' next sentence.

"Do nothing further than letting go of Sportsmaster this moment." Slade sent a death glare in Ra's' general direction. His hands did nothing. "Deathstroke, I assure you, something will happen to her if you do not cease this moment. Am I understood?" Slade looked back at Sportsmaster's neck, where big purple bruises were already starting to form. He reluctantly let go.

"Anything. Any of the slightest provocation, and I will kill you. Stay away from Jane, stay away from me." Ra's rolled his eyes. Children. Thinking they could do anything.

"Thank you, Deathstroke, for that splendid show of maturity. Stay here until further notice. Sportsmaster, I believe that I told you to stay in her body until I said so. What on God's green earth happened?" Sportsmaster, after catching his breath, gave the bloodless version of what happened. Ra's considered for a moment. "You are saying the girl threw you out totally and completely unprovoked? She is not a telepath, that shouldn't have been possible except under extenuating circumstances. So I will ask once again, what did you do? Please, do be honest this time." Sportsmaster looked a moment aside, at something on the floor or wall, before speaking.

"I ripped her psychic arms off multiple times." Ra's' face darkened. Slade's face would have, but it couldn't particularly go any darker. Instead it went to the other end of the spectrum, paling until it was just barely off-white. He looked a bit like he was about to throw up. It was a moment before Ra's spoke.

"I will deal with you later. At the moment there is another issue, which requires my attention. But you will come along. Luthor, if you would mind coming along as well?" Luthor shook his head no. "Thank you. Deathstroke, you will not see the girl until she safe in the hospital wing. If I catch a breath that you went to see her before this, I will move her to another handler. Do I make myself clear?" Slade nodded mutely, his face still pallid. "Good. Luthor, if you will." And with that, Ra's swept off with his entourage.

On the lower floor:

Jane was still curled around herself, muttering, "Arms… hurt… daddy. Daddy? Daddy…" as people around tried to carry her as gently as possible to the infirmary.

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Writing this chapter was rather fun, but really difficult at the same time. It was hard to come up with realistically traumatizing circumstances, and realistic, truly insulting insults. The end conclusion: I cannot write angry people. Is you think of something better to put, I BEG YOU PUT IT IN A REVIEW. Anything to improve my brainchild.


	6. Daddy and Cameron

Thanks to my first follower, Stronger123 and thanks so much for your review! I will definitely keep it in mind next time I write a fight scene! Now... you have all waited long enough... Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you... MY PET'S NAMES! wait, I mean, CHAPTER 6! (now complete with plot progression)

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LoS Infirmary, 1700 hours:

Slade sat on the floor outside the sickbay, his hands covering his eyes. Damn it all. Damn it all to hell. He should have done… something! He groaned in frustration. He was mad at everything. Sportsmaster, Ra's, Luthor, Talia, Cheshire, himself. But not Jane. Never Jane. Angry, irritated, frustrated, tired, but never mad. She was his daught… their fight earlier came back to his mind. He craned his neck up to look at the ceiling. After a moment of pondering, he decided that he would mentor Jane, but unless she asked, specifically, to be his daughter, he would do nothing more. He hoped he could hold himself to that. He didn't want to spoil her… well, not in this environment anyway. If he could ever get her out… he forcibly moved his thoughts elsewhere. Mentor, mentor, mentor. Not father, not dad, not pappy, not daddy, not papa. Mentor. Resolve temporarily strengthened, Slade entered the room.

This act alone nearly crushed whatever steadfast determination Slade had in him. Jane was in one of the beds, physically intact, but huddled in such a way that made her seem closer to a little ball instead of an actual person. The only indication that the pile of blankets was alive was the occasional shuddering of the structure. Against all willpower, Slade's voice softened, his posture became less militantly structured, and he stepped over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"PJ?" he said. Near the head of the bed, the covers shifted a little to show puffy red eyes and a runny nose. "Thought I'd come say hi. Feeling any better?" The eyes and nose moved side-to-side. "Sorry. I swear, I had no idea they were going to do that to you. If I had, I would have done something about it." The eyes stayed where they were. Then…

"I know you would've." Slade let himself smile a little.

"At least they didn't scare the speech outta you. Wait, that might've been a good thing, chatty Kathy." There was a small pause before a tiny, chiming giggle.

"You really don't know how to tell a joke."

"Well, then it's a good thing I've got you here to help me." Yep. He was doomed. She broke his resolve by giggling, for God's sake! He had clearly misinterpreted how far gone he was. "I'm gonna go get some dinner. Want to come along?"

"If the nurses let me. I never did get any lunch." She was quiet a moment. Then, reverting back to her tiny voice, "Slade?"

"Yes, PJ?" he responded tentatively. He hoped this time the conversation didn't end with them both blowing up at each other.

"I'm sorry about earlier." He was a bit astonished. He knew Jane to be headstrong. Stubborn as a mule, sometimes. "I'm sorry" was not something he thought to be in her vocabulary. He was about to speak, but was cut off by "I was being mean, and even though I don't know why entirely, I wanted to apologize anyway." Slade was struck speechless. "Are we still going to get dinner or are you going to spend all day looking like a fish with your mouth open like that?" He smiled.

"Well, since you asked so nicely." And with that, he lifted her up while she was still cloaked in the covers. She squealed with something resembling delight, as he threw her over his shoulder.

"Slaa-aade! Put me down!"

"You're a big girl. You can probably get out yourself."

"Not with you pinning my arms I can't!"

"Oh. Am I? I never would have guessed." He started spinning around, sending her in a circle. She started giggling uncontrollably.

"Dad-dy! Stop!" Slade nearly did, but in a moment of strangely supreme clarity, continued, to see if she would call him "daddy" again.

"What? I can't hear you!" She picked up on the moment's hesitation. Dad. Maybe she could try calling him that again. She didn't mind.

"Dad! Seriously, stop or I'm gonna throw up!" Two.

"We're spinning. The inertia of the vomit will carry it away from me. I'm not sure about you, but I'll be fine." What was inertia? She was serious though. She had to get him to stop somehow. And she liked calling him "daddy".

"Eew! Daddy!" three times successively. That had to count for something, right? All previous resolutions out the window, he stopped.

"Fine, kiddo, you win." As he was setting her down, she caught him by surprise with a peck on his cheek.

"Gah! Your beard scratches!" he grinned.

"Really? Are you sure? Try again." He rubbed his beard over her face.

"Ack! Dad, you got my eye!" she shrieked. But she was still smiling.

"Sorry, PJ. Ready to go get dinner?" he asked.

"I will once you let me out of the covers."

"Oh, I suppose." He stepped back, to let her untangle herself from the burrito of blankets, and then they both exited together. As they were walking down the hall, Jane said something that made Slade nearly jump with happiness.

"Slade?"

"Yeah PJ?"

"Can I call you 'daddy'?" He smiled.

"Well, you have been for the past five minutes, so I suppose I'm not in any position to refuse." She grinned mischievously.

"Thanks, old man."

"That's not 'daddy.' That's 'old man.' There's a difference."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dad. Is your hair naturally that color?"

LoS, Taipei, May 20-:

Jane was running down a long, mirrored hallway. The images around her were all distorted. They were gaining on her. Lasko, the latest one: a woman named Gretchen, Sportsmaster even.

"Dad? Dad?! Are you there?" Somewhere, a baby started crying. She was coming up on the end now. Where were her arms? She needed to climb up the last mirror. She caught a glimpse of her reflection and gasped. Her, for sure, but without any clothing, bald, and with eyes cold as ice. She wanted to turn and run away, but _they_ were there. Oh, God, did it ever end? She turned and readied to fight them. Wait! Her muscles weren't responding. They were moving, but not from her commands. She looked to see strings attached to them, extending into the ceiling.

"Dad! Help!" she sat up in bed, covered in a cold sweat, shoulder-length hair plastered to her face. She turned. Nothing. Just her room, her plain old room. She stood up and moved to the circular window. Calm down, get some fresh air. She went to her bathroom, and splashed some water on her face. Back to the window. Open it. Breathe. Don't think about it. Focus on the moon, or something. But… there was that niggling little doubt in her mind. The nightmares were getting worse and she knew it.

When she first… she forced herself to think the word… _killed_ Lasko, they came maybe once a month. The incident with Sportsmaster and the helmet hadn't exactly helped her sleep either; but it was easier to put out of her mind, right next to the mental Cadmus box. But a week ago, she had gone on another mission, this time solo, as a sort of test as to whether she should continue her training in the LoS. Gretchen Marcusson. 25. Playful and pretty blond. An obsessed ex-boyfriend wanted her dead or back. She had publicly rejected him, so the only other option was dead. Since then, she had had nightmares every other night. Dammit, she wasn't supposed to be thinking about it!

She abruptly stood and dressed in workout clothes. White sports bra, calf-length grey sweatpants, darker grey ballet shoes. A quick look at the clock showed that it was four in the morning. Well, she would have gotten up soon anyway. Best to get in some practice time before breakfast anyway.

As she stalked down the hallway, her dream came back to mind. She knew what each element of the dream came from, now she just needed to figure out how to stop it. But what kind of counseling do you get when you're dreaming about your body being taken over and the people you killed? That was sure to go over well. She sighed to herself. Voices echoed down the hall. People in the training hall at this hour? It wasn't unheard of, she just had to look at herself for that, but it was unusual. She slipped to the wall, creeping down the hallway. When she got to the balcony, she heard them again.

"Thanks again for helping me out of Belle Rêve, sir." Belle Rêve? The superpowers prison? Why was the LoS helping this guy?

"My pleasure, Cameron. Your help with the breakout a few months back aided the Light greatly." Oh. That was why. As they continued talking, Jane moved to the back stairs to get to the ground level, remembering the squeaky eighth step, and slinked around the room to her pillar. As she cautiously looked around the column, she saw Ra's—Lord al Ghul, she corrected, talking with a boy of around seventeen, with spiky—she squinted, was she seeing things correctly? White hair. She resolved to say hello and see if she was hallucinating. Good. Breathe. Step out. Quickly step back in out of shyness. Get seen anyway. She sighed again as Lord al Ghul called out to her.

"Joanna? What are you doing, child?" Jane peeked around the pillar, briefly pouted, and quickly retreated back into her comfort zone. "Joanna, please come out from behind the support. There is someone I wish you to meet." Joanna, in a fit of stubbornness, stepped out to the side of the pillar, and promptly sat down.

"Yes sir?" she said with a sweet smile on her face.

"Come here please, I do not have all day." Jane sat, unmoving. "Now, Joanna Marie." Oh. _That_ tone. The I-will-tell-Slade-about-this-young-lady tone. Joanna quirked her lips to the side in another momentary pout, before standing and moving into the center of the hall.

"Yes Great One?" she asked petulantly.

"Be as grumpy as you like, you are still here." He gestured to the guy standing beside him. "This is Cameron Mahkent, otherwise known as Icicle Jr. He will be staying with us for a few months as things die down. Help him get acquainted with the facilities, please." Joanna glared at Cameron. He grinned back. This girl was interesting. "And Joanna?" Ra's added, "Please, try not to hurt this one as badly as the last." Cameron's smile slid off his face like melted ice cream. Dangerous. Interesting, but very dangerous.

"Then he shouldn't insult my dad the way the last one did." So "the last one" had pissed her off. Okay, try to avoid that. Easy. Yeah, um, easy. Cameron shot a glance toward Joanna. Damn the woman had a nose. Built. Not superhuman, far as he could tell. He relaxed a bit. Ra's spoke up.

"Even if he does, I will expect you to conduct yourself in a dignified fashion. You have so much promise, I would detest to have to get rid of you." Joanna's face whitened a bit. She still had the determined set of the chin, and a spark in her eyes, but she was visibly paling. "But if that is what I must do, I will not hesitate. Do you understand?" Mute nod. "Good. Also, your poker face is improving. Good job."

"Thank you sir." And with a nod in their general direction, Ra's left. Joanna turned to get a better look at Cameron. Purplish-grey skin. Damn it, she hated working with metas. So freaking confident. I have powers! I am invincible! Shyeah. She made an ugly face. She noticed Mahkent standing leniently. So he didn't think she was a threat? Time to fix that.

"Cameron, right? Mind if I call you Cam?" She moved closer, smiling, with half-lidded eyes. Hands behind her back, pushing her 36Cs out. Tighten the abs; they make your stomach seem thinner than it may be. Chin up for a thinner neck (all lessons learned from Talia, who tolerated her better than most). She hadn't gotten the swinging hips down, but on the other hand, she had already almost closed the distance. Mahkent, to his credit, hadn't gone totally dumbstruck, but was a bit stunned from the sudden change in her demeanor. What was it Talia said threw all men off their game? Licking your lips. Joanna decided to not do that, in case she messed it up, but settled instead for biting her lower lip. She closed the distance between them. "Well… Cam?" She slid her arm around his shoulder. She leaned in to his ear, and whispered, "You shouldn't let your guard down so much."

Quickly she pulled her foot around his leg and pushed him to the floor.

"Problem one: You underestimated me because I was a woman. I exploited that. Problem two: You further underestimated me because I don't have visible superpowers. I don't, but don't assume things like that. The abbreviation of 'assume' is 'ass,' something no one wants to be. Problem three: I may not be out of your league, but if you come close to me without my express permission, I won't be able to stop my father from killing you, 'kay?" Mahkent looked thunderstruck. She internally grinned. "What's wrong, have you never seen a pretty girl turn into a heartless bitch before? I'm a sort of 'reverse Cinderella'. Come on, stand up already!" She said, dragging him to his feet.

"PJ? What are you doing? Who's the kid?" a voice rang out through the room, breaking Cameron's fragile balance. Slade stood on the balcony, looking like hell and like he had to hit something soon, be it a person or a pillow. Joanna looked up.

"Oh, hey Dad. Lord al Ghul wants us to shelter this guy for a while, and he asked me to get him familiar with the place. His name's Cameron Mahkent. I was just warding him off. What have you been doing? You look like you had to slog through a Louisiana bayou and then fight a member of the Justice League." Slade looked sheepish. Joanna looked horrified. "Oh my God, that's what happened?" She ran up the stairs, and started supporting Slade. "We have to get you to the med wing! What possessed you to do that?" Slade had to mumble almost incoherently.

"Breaking some kid out of Belle Rêve while we thought the Justice League was off-world. Turned out they weren't. You can fill in the blanks." His left foot dragged on the floor, and as soon as he put weight on it, his right shin gave a resounding crack. Joanna looked like she was going to throw up. She yelled down.

"Mahkent, get off your ass and help me with this!" To her father, "Dad, I'm going to have to carry you. I don't know what happened to your left leg, but I'm pretty sure your right just broke." And with that she hoisted him up into her arms bridal style. Her face showed the exertion it took, but her arms were steady and she took strong steps. "Mahkent, this is all but directly your fault, now stop whining about how I beat you and get up here and give me some damn ice!" Cameron, somehow regaining clarity, jumped up, ran up the stairs and covered Slade's legs with a thin layer of ice to start numbing them. Joanna looked at him with irritated gratitude.

"Took you long enough, but good."

* * *

May I just have a moment to say I _love_ this chapter? It's like I'm making up for that last one.

Read, review, and follow! It gives me motivation to ignore schoolwork and work on this! That being said, I'm coming up on finals week. Don't worry, I will do my best to give you more delicious chapters, but they may take little longer. That 's why reviews are important.


	7. Friends?

Chapter Seven, my lovies! Who needs school and sleep anyway? This chapter was fun. The next will hopefully be... Funner? More fun? Either way, enjoy and review!

* * *

LoS infirmary, one hour later:

"I - um, I never did properly sat thank you." Joanna sat down next to Cameron. He looked her direction coldly, before shrugging his shoulders. "Well, um, thanks anyway." Shrug. "You want an apology, don't you?" Shrug, glance. Small nod. "I'm sorry? Maybe I'm being stupid about this but I rarely apologize for defeating someone. If you lose, you lose." Glare. "I'm not making things better, am I?" Shake. Joanna sighed. "Look, I'm really trying to be nice here. Maybe I didn't play fair, I'll admit it. But I'm not trained for that whole 'honorable combat' thing. I fight to win, dirty tactics be damned. So, I can't really excuse my actions, because they were right to me. Newbie. Needed to get my mind off of… stuff. Irritated because it was my third night of little to no sleep. So-"

"Third night of little to no sleep? Are you shitting me?" Cameron burst in. Joanna looked at him quizzically.

"Shitting you? What do you mean?" Now it was Cameron's turn to look puzzled.

"Were you raised with monks? Like, kidding me. Pulling the wool over my eyes. Playing with my brain." Comprehension dawned on Joanna's face.

"I see. And yes, I am being raised here. I may not look like it, but I'm only 11 months old."

"11 months? Now you've gotta be shitting me."

"No, I mean it. I was—force-grown here as a clone of, well, someone, and I officially 'woke up' last June." Cameron looked her up and down. Joanna noticed his eyes linger on her ample cleavage.

"Someone seems awfully mature for her age." Joanna winked at him.

"You're just saying that 'cause of my boobies. But yes, I have come a long way since I started. I had to teach myself how to walk, and how to talk. Still working on grammar." Cameron raised an eyebrow.

"How to talk? Like 'me Tarzan, you Jane'?" Joanna snickered.

"No, like" a garbled number of sounds came out of her mouth. "Would you believe my first word was 'shit'? And before you ask, no, I'm not shitting you." She grinned.

"You'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe. Anyone can confirm this?"

"Sportsmaster. But with him I'm sorta… what was it? Persona non gratis or something? Can't say I like him much either."

"The way you say that it sounds like someone does actually like him." Joanna laughed.

"So… for realsies, this time. Cam?" Cameron grimaced.

"Only if I can call you…" he paused. "Hell, there aren't any horrible nicknames for Joanna."

"Jo?" Joanna offered helpfully. Cameron sighed.

"It'll have to do. You're probably going to call me Cam anyway, aren't you?"

"Well now that you've mentioned it, yes." Joanna started to giggle, and when Cameron joined in, the near-silent giggling escalated to quiet laughter.

At that point, Talia came out of the door to the med bay and looked rather sternly at the two. Joanna shut up, and a worried expression came over her face.

"Can we go see him now? Is he alright?" Talia looked rather disdainfully over at her.

"Yes. But when you go in, for God's sake _be quiet._" Joanna nodded mutely.

Slade looked horrible. His face was covered with bruises, as was most of the rest of him. Both his legs were in casts, as well as his right arm. They had him hooked up to a feeding tube and had filled him with wires. Joanna's chin started to tremble. When she spoke, it came out strained.

"Daddy? I'm here." Tears started to fill her eyes. From where Cameron was standing, it was heartbreaking. He could only imagine how it would feel were their positions reversed. He and his dad didn't always get along, but… He looked at Slade. Most normal human beings wouldn't be able to live through whatever Slade had gone through.

Back on Joanna's side of things, she was barely capable of coherent thought. Why had she been here, not there with him? She recalled the moment. He asked her, she had told him she was too tired for it. What if he never woke up? That was on her. She started to cry. Cameron noticed and came over to awkwardly give her a hug. She leaned into him.

"It's all my fault. He asked if I wanted to come along, and I-" she started sobbing. "I said no. I should have been there. I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE!" she yelled out. Cameron, not knowing what else to do, rocked her back and forth. They stayed there like that for a few moments. Joanna's stomach growled. Cameron noticed.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

" 'M not hungry." She mumbled.

"Sure you…" Pausing, Cameron pondered. "You don't have to leave. I'll go get you something. Just eat it, okay?" Joanna calmed her hacking breaths down.

"I guess. Just… please, nothing too sugary, okay?"

"I can do that."

Two hours later; Training hall:

"So go over it again with me," Cameron said. Joanna looked confused.

"Go over what?" He rolled his eyes.

"What I did wrong this morning. Go over it again." Joanna maintained her look of puzzlement.

"If you're sure…" She breathed in, calling up the memory. "First, you underestimated me because I am a curvy woman. Out of the field, a wandering eye is acceptable to all except your girlfriend. In the field, it is a weapon that can be used against you. To avoid it, focus on the face. Understand?"

"Yep. Voice of experience there?"

"I'm surrounded by buff men 24/7. What do you think? Second, you underestimated me because I don't have visible superpowers. As I said before, I don't have superpowers. But, while on that topic, neither does Batman, and he's one of the powerhouses of the Justice League. So to avoid that, watch your enemy's every movement. I knew you didn't think I had superpowers because you smirked. And I have very good instincts as well, which means I could tell you were imagining me covered in chocolate or something."

"Or something."

"I honestly don't want to know. Back to the main topic. Watch your enemy like a hawk. If their eye twitches, what can that mean? Are there bags under their eyes? Are they shaking or staying stock still like they're afraid to move? Remember, though you want to dehumanize him while you're fighting him, before that, he is a human underneath it all and you want to manipulate that."

"So, fight animals, analyze humans?"

"Exactly. Care to give it a try?"

"What the hell? I may even beat you this time." Joanna smirked as they both stood.

"Maybe. But probably not." She grinned wider.

"Hey!"

"Yup, I'm definitely going to win."

"And how do you know that, miss cocky?"

"You're planning a frontal attack, a kick; most likely, because you think a punch would project too much. Your stance says you'll go for my midriff, because why the hell not? I'll catch your leg, flip you onto your front, and sit on you." Cameron looked slightly thunderstruck.

"You know that's kind of creepy, right?"

"Hey, three months of not knowing speech makes for great body language skills. It feels natural to me."

"And killing with a smile on your face feels natural to a sociopath. Doesn't make it not creepy."

"One, I'm not sure that's the right word and two, it's not creepy to me, as I stated before."

"I stand by my convictions."

"Big word." She smiled. "Big talk. Are we going to fight today or what?"

"Well, I'm trying to manipulate you like you said, but it doesn't seem to be working."

"It isn't. Just focus on the fighting for now."

"Yes, teacher," Cameron said in a nasally, singsongy voice.

"Damn straight. Also, keep your thumb outside your fist or you're gonna break it when you hit me." Cameron looked down at his fist.

"It's out alre-" as he was looking up, Joanna's fist slammed into the side of his face.

"Lesson one. How to take a hit. Moving the same way the blow does will lessen the impact. But on the flip side, if you take the full hit, you can use the momentum from it to fuel your next attack, like so. Hit me." Cameron hit her with a powerful uppercut, but a fraction before he made contact, she wove her hands together in front of her like she was praying, and as she moved up with the hit, she brought her hands up until they made contact with Cameron's chin. He started flying and as Joanna landed into a backflip, Cameron fell gracelessly onto his ass.

"Knock the wind out of you and a potential KO," Joanna said airily. "If you had hit me hard enough, there would be the potential for a concussion later, but it's not likely."

"So, immediately, our prime concern is my pride?" Joanna smiled.

"No. Our prime concern is making sure you can take a hit. No pride involved. No shame in learning how to properly fall on your ass. Try to swivel your arms less next time, place them behind you and land on your elbows. It hits your funny bone, but it's better than not breathing and being immobile for a few seconds."

This pattern of hitting, landing, falling, and criticizing continued for some time. Unknown to the two, Ra's al Ghul passed the landing and stood there for a few minutes. As he walked away, the wheels in his head were turning to a new job for Miss Wilson… if she could pull it off.

Next Day:

Slade was still in a coma. Joanna was a bit more worried, normally he would have shaken it off by now. And she had had another nightmare. While at breakfast, Cameron happily plopped down in the seat next to her.

"What's got you so gloomy?"

"…Nothing."

"I should think that having bags under your eyes the size of Siberia is not 'nothing'."

"What do you want me to say, Cam? My dad isn't waking up anytime soon, as far as the doctors say, and my nightmares keep getting worse."

"Nightmares?" Joanna looked sleepily alarmed.

"Forget I said anything. It's nothing."

"Nightmares are nothing as much as the Siberia bags. Talk to me." Joanna shot a glance his way, before sighing resignedly.

"I have nightmares. About… about the people I've killed for the League. And they're getting worse."

"Have you gone to ask for something to help you sleep or something?"

"Here? They only have doctors for people who need to be stitched up and set up with a makeshift IV drop. If you want meds, those are outside."

"Well then we need to get you out."

"Cam, I've officially left the compound twice. Other than that, I've snuck out to meet hobos and go to the library. I wouldn't know the first thing about getting sleep aids."

"That's why you've got me. Come'on, we'll sneak out, have a good time, go do something fun together, and get you some meds on the way."

"…Will this be legal?"

"Mostly." Joanna pulled a tired smile.

"Just let me get in a nap first."

"Works for me. Best clubs aren't exactly open in the middle of the day."

"Cameron, I don't have anything to go clubbing in. T-shirts and jeans form the majority of my wardrobe."

"And I say again. That's why you've got me."

For the rest of the day, Joanna and Cameron plotted like regular teenagers. Except that they were planning how to get past motion detectors and armed sentries, as opposed to watchful parents. But for once, Joanna felt almost… she hardly dared to think it.

Normal.

* * *

A chapter that ends on a positive note? PREPOSTEROUS! I must have Tourettes or something. But the next chapter will hopefully be fun! Also, Cameron learns that all women take a long time when shopping. Joanna is no exception. R&R!


	8. Perils (Read: Thongs and Heels)

So so sorry it's taken so long to get out! I don't do well with the whole "describe every element of the clothing" thing. So, instead, here's a picture I did of it! www. deviant art/It-s-called-a-miniskirt- 373275855 Again, lose the spaces.

And without further ado, I present, CHAPTER EIGHT! Alternately titled, "filler because of finals."

* * *

LoS Infirmary, 1800 Hours:

"See you later Daddy. I'm going out." Joanna gave her father's hand a quick kiss. Cameron's voice whispered out of the darkness.

"Ready to go?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Joanna's voice tingled with excitement. This was going to be so cool! "You coming or not, slowpoke?"

"Coming, coming. Try not to be too loud."

As they snuck around the compound, Joanna's memory of hallways and blind spots came back to her. They finally got out through the laundry room. Cameron's knowledge of streets and such then came in handy as he expertly maneuvered through traffic, literally keeping her from stepping in front of a bus once.

"Thanks," she said with a sheepish smile.

"Not a problem."

By the time they had reached the downtown area of Taipei, Joanna had gotten hungry, and Cameron had noticed. He stopped her and promptly frog-marched her into the nearest alley.

"Um… care to explain what's going on?" She asked.

"I'm about to introduce you to your new best friend. Meet," he said with a dramatic flourish, "your brand-new fake ID!" Joanna looked at him perplexedly.

"Please, explain. Not following you here." He rolled his eyes.

"This, my naïve little lady, will get you into clubs. You are now legally twenty-two. I plan on getting you well acquainted with _l'alcool_. You will never know what hit you. But first, food then wardrobe. You can't walk into the club looking like you should live with hillbillies who may or may not then turn out to be aliens."

"Aliens? How did you get there?" Cameron looked uncomfortable.

"When I first got to Belle Rêve I befriended someone who was posing as Tommy Terror, of the Terror Twins. It was only after the attempted breakout that I found out he was really Superboy." Joanna's eyes flashed. "What, you have a vendetta against the guy, too?" She tightly shook her head.

"Later. Let's just try to enjoy the night, 'kay?"

"Whatever you say, Celia Mitchell. That's your new name, by the way."

"Right along with me being born twenty-two years ago?"

"Exactly." The conversation loosened up quickly, before stopping altogether with dinner at a cheap fast food restaurant. Following this comfortable silence, Cameron then took Joanna to a small store which carried clothing of varying levels of exposure. The floor was blue with lights in several places. There were pink strobe lights lining the walls, which were navy blue. Joanna took a quick glance around, before attempting to flee out the door. Cameron caught her in his arms with an expression somewhere between concern and amusement.

"Why the fight-or-flight response?"

"Why not? How do people wear this stuff? I thought the purpose of clothing was to cover up, not show more!" Her face was blushing scarlet and her eyes were wide. She tried to drag herself closer towards the door, but to no avail. They struggled like this for almost ten minutes; Cameron keeping her in a bear hug, her trying to break it. The impasse finally resolved itself when Cameron resorted to tickling her and dragged her to a changing room. The staff, who had watched the escapade with no little amusement, sent forth a braver one from their ranks who offered to stay and watch Joanna, and keep her from trying to escape again, while Cameron perused the racks. He politely declined, skillfully avoiding the fact that if too spooked she could very easily snap all their necks. He would make sure she didn't escape and leave the clothing choices to the sales assistant. She looked content enough with this, and went to get some prospective choices.

"Jo? Are you still alive in there?"

"I'm not coming out and you can't make me."

"I actually expect you will stay in there and try on everything I hand in to you, no questions asked."

"Like hell."

"I'd expect nothing less."

"Try the stuff on anyway? Pleeeaaase? For me, darling, light of my days, apple of my eye?"

"… Fine. But only in protest of those stupid names."

"As long as you do try them on. If you're protesting, you have to do makeup too though." Silence. "And hair, if I can keep you still for long enough." Grunt. "I can't hear youuuuuu."

"Fine. But just makeup. My hair is fine as it is."

"With that sloppy ponytail? I'm busting a gut out here."

"Itwillbefinethankyou."

"Fine. Just tidy it up, 'kay?"

"…Maybe." But Cameron grinned. He knew he'd won this one. "I can feel you smirking over your verbal victory."

"You have the body, I have the repartee." The brave sales assistant, whose name was Hayley, came over, carrying a small pile of clothing. Cameron clapped his hands. "Oh, goody! Miniskirts!"

"Dear God that sounds dangerous."

"No, you just need to be wary of the high-heeled boots."

"Is there an air vent I can escape through nearby perchance?"

"No." He handed the clothes in to her.

"What goes where? I have no idea what goes where!"

Cameron quickly spoke to Hayley. "Would you mind helping her out? She's basically lived in the mountains until now." Hayley, brave soul she was, squared her shoulders and entered the changing room.

"It is in the middle of town, genius!"

"And you left it to see hobos and the library! That equates living in the mountains!"

"Fine. Ack! What is that?" Joanna squealed out.

Hayley responded patiently, "It's called a thong. Believe me, it's more comfortable than it looks."

"Okay…" Joanna responded dubiously. The next fifteen or so minutes continued in a similar vein, only changing subject when Hayley decided she needed another size of something, or something else entirely. During this time, the rest of the staff came forward and started going on with business as usual. When Hayley was apparently satisfied with Joanna's clothing, she came out of the stall for a moment to call one of the other girls, Lin. When she reentered with Lin, Joanna started backing into a corner.

"Cam?" she called out cautiously. "What are they doing?"

"They're doing your makeup, I would assume. Right ladies?" Affirmative answers came from behind the door. "Stay still and behave yourself, I don't want to have to come in there and hold you down again."

"Fine," was Joanna's begrudging answer. She sat down, closed her eyes and screwed up her face. Lin started speaking to her in fast Chinese, with Hayley serving as translator.

"She wants you to loosen your face up. We can't work with a scrunched face." Joanna schooled her features into her best semblance of a poker face. "Better. Try to relax your eyes." Joanna's face loosened a microfraction. The two women then conversed in Chinese, discussing color palettes presumably. After deciding, Lin went to get the needed items. During this time, Joanna had listened intently to the conversation, not understanding a word of it, her features falling into an easygoing configuration. She tried to keep it that way while the two women worked with her face, but her hands kept on twitching when she got surprised. After what felt like an hour to Joanna, but was closer to ten minutes, the two Taiwanese women exited the stall to a rather bored Cameron who asked them how much longer. Hayley grinned.

"Your girlfriend should be out in a second."

"Thanks, but… not my girlfriend. Just a friend who is a girl."

"Sure. You make a cute couple, especially with the playfighting."

"You think that was playfighting?" the conversation, however, was cut off by Joanna's entrance onto the floor. She wobbled out on purple heels that were up to her knee, with a slit down the middle. She clung to the walls with similar purple gauntlets. If she had had a hand open, she would have used it to pull down the miniskirt with yet another slit up the side. The straps of the thong she had questioned peeked over the sides, but were partially hidden by a purple belt with a gold brooch. Her shirt was black leather, with regular straps but a neckline that plunged to her diaphragm. Her hair had been tidied into a decent high ponytail with a strand loose in front of her face. Cameron started hyperventilating, quietly chanting, "not my girlfriend, dad is an assassin, not my girlfriend, dad is an assassin," to himself.

"Cam… What am I wearing?"

"A… um… dead sexy outfit. Kudos ladies." Joanna looked herself up and down in a nearby mirror, before nodding almost imperceptibly.

"I guess." She said, before remembering her few manners and thanking the two women who helped her in halting Chinese. Cameron looked surprised.

"I didn't know you knew Chinese."

"I don't. But I understood their body language and inflection enough to pick out 'thank you.' I just hope it sounded like 'xie nin', not 'shiny.'" Hayley and Lin looked impressed enough, though, so she felt pleased with herself.

After paying (at which Cameron paled a bit) the two made their way down the street. Joanna took slightly wobbly steps, eventually falling into a relatively easy pace, with the occasional stumble.

"So where to now?"

"A lovely little place with plenty of strobe lights and drinks. It's a couple blocks. Can you make it in the deathtraps, princess?"

"Yeah, but I'm gonna need to sit down for a little while once we get there. Unless you think you can carry me."

"If I could do so without fearing for my life, I might." Joanna gave a resigned smile. After a moment of what looked like self-argumentation, she spoke up.

"Cam, I know that this'll sound weird, but… could you please stop making jokes about me killing people? It's not really something I enjoy, and I just… well, when I'm not on a mission, I try to just forget about it." Cameron looked surprised a moment before smiling.

"I can do that Jo. Oh, lookie, we're almost there!" he pointed down the street to a blazing sign with a line of people in front.

"Cam?"

"Yes?"

"That line is really long. Will we be able to get in before the end of the year?"

"Certainly, princess. I happen to know the bouncer."

"Bouncer?"

"Security guard. Regulates who gets in or not."

"Then why do we need the fake IDs?"

"Because I don't know the bartender."

"That makes sense."

"Glad it does. Hey, Devastation!" a tall, imposing woman looked up from the door. Her buff arms were covered in tattoos, and her red hair was in cornrows.

"What, Junior?"

"My friend and I wish to gain entrance sometime this millennia, if you wouldn't mind." As the two talked, Joanna looked curiously at the woman. Her harsh voice wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. She remembered Slade telling her about Devastation, and how she should try not to get on her bad side, because she was a powerful ally. Steeling herself, Joanna resolved to introduce herself. She pulled her shoulders back, stood as straight as she felt comfortable, and pushed Cameron out of the way. With her heels, the woman's chin was at eye level. She looked up as Devastation silently looked down at her. She inhaled deeply.

"Hello Miss Devastation. Or is it just Devastation? My name is Joanna Wilson."

"Just Devastation, _Miss Wilson_. Oh, wait… You're Slade's kid, right?" her tone turned prickly.

"Yes ma'am. My father has said good things about you."

"Has he now?" Her tone turned pricklier. "I wouldn't have expected that. Last time we met, he tried to kill me." Joanna looked slightly worried. She needed to turn around this conversation fast.

"He failed to mention that, but he did say you are a very capable fighter." Devastation gave a mocking laugh.

"Yeah, that's probably why he left me standing alone when the Mini-League showed up. Thought I could fight my way out of it." Joanna's hackles went up. Nobody badmouthed her dad.

"I know my father. He wouldn't have left without good reason. If he thought you were capable, then you probably were."

"Are you saying I was holding back, kid?" Joanna's face started turning purple.

"I'm saying you probably didn't live up to your full potential, whether subconscious or not! He says you've gone up against Wonder Woman and even come out on top sometimes. So he either underestimated the 'Mini-League', as you call it, or overestimated you. And I have never known my father to underestimate anyone." Devastation started looking red in the face.

"Listen, you little brat, I fought to my full in there!"

"Oh really? Because if you fight a badly as you insult, I can see why they beat you!" Devastation lifted a hand. Joanna took the best fighting stance she could in her shoes. Cameron, who noticed the scene was starting to get more stares than was wise, interceded.

"Joooooo! Devastation! What say we just forget this whole thing, Jo and I go in, drink a bit, leave you alone, and everyone is happy!" Both women looked at him like he was a dung beetle. But then Joanna's face resolved itself, and she stood down.

"Devastation, I apologize. It was out of line for me to insult you like I did." She held a hand out. "Forgive me?" Devastation continued looking at Cameron like a disgusting insect. Then, after a moment, she stood down as well and waved the two inside.

"Just stay out of my way, daddy's girl, and we won't have a problem."

Inside the club, Cameron sighed. "Crisis averted. I thought you said you don't apologize much?" Joanna smirked.

"Not honestly. If there is one thing I have learned, it is that diplomacy often involves being insincere."

"Clever girl. Now, to the bar!"

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Quick little translation!

l'alcool: the alcohol

Xie nin, or 谢您: The phonetic translation of "thank you" in Chinese.

Enjoy my lovelies and check out my illustration for this chapter! I'm working on a cover for the story as a whole as we speak! Or read. Whatever.


	9. I'm here (finally)

To my beautiful, lovely, **patient** readers: THAAAAAAAANK YOUUUUUU for being so patient with me while I cranked this one out! I would write a sentence... and then go do something else, and then I would write a sentence... and then I would go do something else. Damn floors needing sweeping.

Also, suggestions for the title of this chapter because it's 12:28 at night. And I'm lazy.

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LoS, Taipei, 2000 hours:

"Where the hell is the brat? He's asking for her!"

"She's not in any of her old haunts, inside or outside!"

"Well then where else would she be?"

"ENOUGH!" Ra's' voice rang through the room. "If she is not here, the most we can do is wait for her to return. When she does, she will likely visit him then. When she does, we can inquire as to where she was. Otherwise, leave it be. There's only so much we can do." When the frazzled others had left the room, Ra's called, "Talia?"

"Yes, father?"

"I want you to look for her. Take a picture with you, if you have to. Try not to flash it around too much, but look for her to the best of your ability please."

"Yes father."

Elsewhere, Taipei, 2000 hours:

"Oh my gosh this is so fun!" Joanna, who had long since abandoned the heels, downed yet another shot.

"How many of those have you had?" Cameron yelled over the pulsing Chinese pop.

"I've lost count!"

"How are you standing right now?"

"Natural tolerance?" Joanna laughed out. She had one of the biggest smiles on her face. Her cheeks were starting to hurt. With the aid of the alcohol, she had started to loosen up over the miniscule skirt and the skin-baring shirt. She had also proudly noticed several lingering glances in her direction. But they always averted their eyes when they caught a glance of Cameron standing protectively nearby. Judgment clouded by her many drinks; she decided to have some fun with him.

"Hey Cam," She half-purred, half-slurred, leaning over to him.

"Yes?" he answered cautiously.

"Wanna make out?" She grinned.

"…Wait, what?"

"Do you," she gestured to him, "want to make out," she made little kissing motions with her hands, "with me?" she finished by pointing at herself.

"Okaaaay, I think you've definitely had enough to drink! Let's get going now, shall we?"

"Come'on Cam, I'm serious. Genuine offer here. I promise not to throw you onto your back after getting close." He looked dumbstruck.

"…You asked for it." He pulled her to him, smushing his lips onto hers. She was surprised at first, but soon responded in kind. This was very different from the paternal affection she got from Slade, it was more demanding, more desperate. Like… she pulled away.

"What are you trying to forget?" she asked, head cocked to one side. Cameron looked away shamefacedly.

"I'm sorry, that was …rude of me."

"I'm not mad, just curious. If you want my help getting over someone, just please let me know first."

He focused on the nearest table, before reluctantly meeting her gaze. "The lady half of the Terror Twins? Tuppence Terror? I sorta developed a thing for her in Belle Rêve. Then, of course, she turned out to be Miss Martian, but hey, she was still the hottest chick, around my age, in prison. I'll take my chances." Joanna nodded understandingly.

"I see. You want me to help you get over her?" Cameron looked at her inquisitively.

"Sounds like you help people 'get over' others often."

"A couple of times a month. They're upset because so-and-so left them, and that interrupts their work abilities. You can't give 100 percent if half of you is focused on 'how could I have fixed things.' So I… speed along the process." Cameron looked flabbergasted. "Just kissing and stuff. But there was one time Dad caught me with a guy who was like, 30, and he nearly killed him. So I've been a bit more careful now."

"Do I have to worry about getting killed if he finds out?"

"Not if I vouch for you. Probably." Cameron looked skeptical. "I promise, I won't let him hurt you." She smiled. "It won't be a serious relationship. Just… when you feel lonely or start thinking of her, you come to me instead." Cameron looked at her with astonishment.

"As much as I may need that, I couldn't. I just couldn't."

"Because of how you feel about her?"

"Partially. Partially because we look like we'll get a great 'friends' thing going here. Partially because I think you need more self-esteem, and pasting another girl's face onto your every time we kiss is not the way to do that." Joanna looked insulted.

"What? Are you saying I don't respect myself?" Cameron looked like he was trying to find the best way to speak his thoughts.

"…Yes. Out of all the men you've 'helped along'-"

"Why do you think it was only men?"

"I didn't need to know that. Nonetheless, how many out of the whole group did you actually know? How many thanked you? Seriously. They aren't going to respect you if you don't respect yourself." Joanna indignantly stood up.

"I respect myself just fine! I know who I am, I maintain who I am, I control my own future!"

"And that's why you're the League of Shadows little lapdog, is it? To 'control your own future'?" Joanna's face started to turn red.

"I'm leaving!"

"You don't know the way back!"

"I'll find it!" Cameron looked at her. He knew she would get lost, try to find her way again, and just get even more lost. Angry as he was with her, his highly diminished conscience still rang a klaxon saying he should get her home safely. And of course, the real purpose of the escapade: sleeping pills.

"Tell you what; I won't say anything, you won't say anything, we get the sleeping pills, we get back to the shadows, okay?" Joanna looked at him begrudgingly. He was her best chance at getting home, and she did need those sleeping pills. Besides, she would likely get the blame if he mysteriously disappeared in the night.

"Fine. But I'm going to go change into the outfit I was wearing before. This is uncomfortable."

"Fine."

"Fine."

That one shop where Hayley and Lin work, 2030 hours:

Talia walked in with an air of dignified annoyance. Joanna was really asking for it. And then going by this place? Talia would be surprised of the girl hadn't died from seeing some of this. She was indeed teaching Joanna how to seduce people, but skimpy clothes and heels weren't part of the equation yet. Talia walked up to one of the women at the counter, describing Joanna and asking if the woman had seen her. The woman, who introduced herself as Hayley, said she had come in earlier with a friend and then left, in the general direction of a popular club, she thought.

"Really, she was very kind, and very intelligent from what I could tell, but just so very innocent!" She started prattling on about how Joanna was years behind the times, and blah, blah, blah. Talia, whose patience was thin already, finally decided to regain control of the conversation.

"How long ago did she come in?" Hayley jumped at the authoritative tone.

"About… five in the afternoon. Maybe five-thirty. Why? Is she dangerous?"

"Not unless she's scared out of her mind," and with that, Talia swept out the door and started walking.

Takeda Pharmacy, 2030 hours:

"This is the place?" Joanna whispered. Cameron nodded quietly. They stood outside the building, which was still open and lit up like the sun. "How, exactly, are we supposed to sneak in?"

"We aren't."

"Connect the dots for me." He handed her a ski mask.

"We're going to hold up the place." Joanna blanched.

"No, no, no. I will take the nightmares over that."

"You knew this was going to be illegal, Jo."

"Not like this. One, I haven't the fuzziest idea how to use a gun. Two, I wouldn't even if I could. Three, what part of 'shadows' do you not get?"

"One, we're not using guns. Two, we're not using guns. Three, that's why they won't connect it back to the shadows. We're utilizing my ice abilities." Joanna rolled her eyes in frustration.

"They will probably recognize someone who's supposed to be in Belle Rêve prison in Louisiana. Not to mention the use of powers will ultimately mean they call in the Justice League. Now, here's what's going to happen. You are going to take me home immediately, meds or no, and I will find a smart way to get them myself." She paused to draw breath, but was rendered unable to continue by Talia placing a hand over her mouth.

"I quite agree. You will go home, you will take the consequences of your actions, and then for God's sake you will visit your father in the infirmary." At this, Joanna's head shot up from behind Talia's hand.

"He's awake? He's alright?" Talia nodded. Joanna kept her face blank, the wisest decision for when Talia was mad, but she couldn't keep her eyes from tearing up. Joanna nodded and stood up. "Okay, I'll come back with you. Just… before you throw me into solitary or whatever, may I please see my dad?" Talia made a face like she was considering. She wasn't, really, the kid would see her dad as long as they got back, but no reason she shouldn't make her sweat a little.

"I don't see why not." Joanna's face lit up like it was Christmas. She had to admit, the kid had her moments. "But you will have extra training with me until I think you've had enough. Monday through Friday, six a.m. to eleven. No complaining. And bring your heels." Joanna looked perplexed. "No questions, I'll explain it tomorrow. Right now, you're the one doing the explaining. Why did you leave the compound?" She turned and started walking away. Joanna hurried to catch up with her before speaking with an uncomfortable expression.

"I needed sleep meds. Cam found out, and we made a-" she stopped. It wasn't a date, really. They weren't together. What word to put here? "'Night out' from it. Nothing else, really." Talia shot her a look.

"Why do you need sleep aids?" she asked imperiously. Joanna looked sheepish. "Why do you need sleep aids?" still no answer. Irritation crept in. "Joanna Marie?" Joanna winced.

"Nightmares." Talia's expression softened the tiniest bit.

"Nightmares you can't really remember the next morning or wake you up while you're sleeping nightmares?"

"Wake you up nightmares." Talia thought back through noteworthy moments in the kid's short life. After pondering a minute, she nodded her head in agreement with herself.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do about that." Joanna's face shot up, looking nothing less than surprised. Talia looked at her, almost like she was about to smile. "Well, if it's interfering with your skills, I can't see why not."

"I'm just… not used to the League really caring about my personal problems. Does that sound rude?" Talia considered.

"It sounds like standard League policy. But of course, most of the shadows workers have their own places to live and have an understanding of basic healthcare. Believe me, this whole 'raise a clone' thing is as new to them as 'growing up in the League of Shadows' is to you." Joanna made a face.

"They don't have to be such total douche bags about it though. I at least try to be nice." Talia was almost stunned. She shot a glare back at Cameron. He raised his hands in protest.

"In my defense, I didn't know she was listening."

"She's always listening! She's like a toddler when it comes to speech, it is filed away in her memory for forever!" she half-screamed with emphasis on the word "forever." Joanna noticed they were gathering attention, and pointed this out to the two. When she saw the audience, Talia stood a little straighter, calling on the regal bearing she had been practically born with. With a carefully crafted sneer, she said, "Well, if your lives are so very boring you must count on others for your entertainment, I must say that I fear for our species." She gave a short pause, before repeating the same thing in Chinese. Most of the crowd, looking embarrassed, left quietly to go about their business. The trio continued back to the shadows complex.

Upon their return, Joanna was on her way to the med wing so quickly Talia was a bit surprised. The kid was tired, and still a bit drunk (she had stumbled twice on the fifteen-minute walk home) but the kid could powerwalk like a thirty-year old mother. Which she wasn't. Just thirty. She inwardly sighed. Raise a kid in this environment? Never. But raise a kid? She did want to someday, she supposed. She was shaken out of her reverie by Cameron attempting to sneak off. She laid a hand firmly on his shoulder.

"Hold it hot shot. You and I need to have a little chat." She could feel him resign himself to death. _Teenagers_. "You took Joanna out of the compound. While not wrong, there are so many things that could have gone that way, I honestly don't want to think about it. You will not do so again, unless you have my explicit permission. I know you are used to being given free reign but here we have regulations."

In the Med Lab:

Ra's was sitting with Slade.

"You… you're sure she'll be back." Slade gasped out. Between the feeding tube and the oxygen mask, it was a wonder he could talk at all. The first time he had asked this question, it had been understandable. The seventh time? It was getting irritating.

"As I said, many times before, Talia is looking for her. She'll be back." Slade closed his eyes. The light hit something. Ra's looked closer. He nearly gasped in shock when he saw one of his strongest men honest-to-God crying. "My God man, have some dignity!"

"She's just… so damn headstrong. It wouldn't surprise me if she did run away." Pause. Ra's cringed with every tear. "I'm the worst father on this miserable planet." Ra's looked uncomfortable. He was saved by the door banging open, Joanna rushing in, and the door slamming shut. Slade looked up weakly.

"PJ? Izzat you?" Joanna looked close to tears.

"It's me Daddy. I'm here."

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Okay, sharing my thoughts with you for once; while I was writing that last scene, I kept on thinking _Flee Ra's, flee from the salt water! _Just a quick look into what goes through my head while I write.

... Reviews are LOVE!


	10. Phones are Hazardous

Chapter 10! Interesting things happen!

**Edit: Changed the chapter a bit. in the original version, I felt that Slade was OOC when he called Joanna, but posted it anyway. Don't ask me why, I do not know. So, came back and read it again. And decided I hated it. If you really liked the original, send me a PM and I'll get the original scene to you. Left the door scene pretty much as it was because 1. I really like it that way and 2. I can't currently think of anything to really replace it and I like to give you guys as much word count as I can.**

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June 5, LoS:

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Joanna stood straightbacked in Lord Al Ghul's office. Damn this place was intimidating. Especially the giant desk. She didn't let it show on her face, but it was daunting. Ra's steepled his fingers together in front of him. His expression was unreadable. However, when there was a loud thump just outside the door, his face turned entertained.

"Would you be kind enough to tell your father and your beau to stop fighting for the best place to listen in on our conversation?" Joanna blushed and bit back a smile. The man knew everything. She calmly walked to the door, opening it to the scene of Cam trying push Slade's foot off his chest. Slade had his ear pressed to the space where the door had just been.

"Cam, stop trying, you'll only make a fool of yourself." She said imperiously. She then turned to Slade. "Dad. Please just walk away, alright?" And with that, she slammed the door in his face. She returned to the uncomfortable militaristic bearing. Her tone turned emotionless. "You were saying, sir?"

"Please, sit." She turned from the door. She often heard about so-and-so getting "fired" (which often involved a low caliber slug and the river they were positioned by) and the beginning of the end always began with Ra's asking them to "sit down." At her suspension in motion, Ra's further pressed her to sit. "Please, Miss Wilson, won't you have a seat?" Joanna nearly bit her lip, but remembered her poker face and woodenly walked forward and sat down.

"Thank you sir."

"Very good. First, I would like to congratulate you on your first birthday. You may not remember it, but today last year was when you first woke up." Joanna nodded. She tried not to think of that often. The pile of bodies… the first time she realized what they were, she threw up. She swallowed the little bit of bile rising in her throat. She steadied her voice.

"Thank you sir."

"Second," he pulled a small stack of note cards out of a drawer in the intimadesk (as Joanna had just christened it) and began reading from them. "'You have proven yourself to be more than capable in combat, and shown discipline where others would have most likely failed,' especially in your lessons with Talia. She says you have made a lot of progress. 'Worthy of the role bestowed, blah, blah, blah,'" he flipped through the cards. "Yes, that's it." Joanna was confused. Why did she get the feeling that the "role bestowed" was something she would regret? Ra's saw her expression. "Don't worry, the speech is merely a formality. You will know the real test in a moment." At that, Joanna had to interrupt.

"Test? Forgive me sir, but what are you talking about?" Ra's actually looked surprised.

"Nobody's told you anything?"

"About what?"

"My goodness. I thought you knew. I should explain. I, as the head of the League of Shadows, am ready to move you to the next level of your role here, whatever that may be. That is why I called you here. Before that happens, though, you need to complete a test given to you." Joanna cocked her head to the side.

"This sounds like a Greek myth or something. 'You must defeat the Gorgon sisters to advance!' and all that." Ra's pondered this.

"Yes, I do suppose it does. But that is neither here nor there, I'm afraid. The test is in here," he slid a folder over to her, "for your perusal. You have a month. It's standard League work; they'll take care of transportation and lodging, etc." Joanna started sadly glancing through. Ra's didn't fail to notice when she abruptly stopped. "Is something wrong?"

"It says everyone in the room."

"Yes, indeed it does. What of it?"

"These two just had a baby. Where do newborns sleep? In the same room as their parents. The dossier says to go in at night and kill everyone in the room, and there will be a newborn in the room. I can't do this." She slid the paper back over to Ra's. He looked pensive for a moment.

"I'm afraid I can't change the rules Miss Wilson. This is your job now," Joanna looked away with a conflicted expression on her face, "whether you like it or not." Joanna was silent. "You realize… you realize if you do not accept this job, the League will have to get rid of you." Joanna's head shot up, her eyes panicked. Ra's sighed. "What happened to all that good facial control? It was so good and now…" he sighed exasperatedly again. "I want you to tell your father to teach you poker. I feel you would be very good at it. That will be all." He pushed the folder back to her. She took it, looking disgusted with herself. "Miss Wilson… Joanna. I want you to know that none of us here at the LoS will think any less of you for completing your mission."

Joanna looked at him.

"Be that as it may, sir, my opinion of myself is what I'm truly worried about."

Two weeks later: Berlin, Germany.

Joanna stepped through her window into her hotel room, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had done it. She had hated every minute of it, but she'd done it. She ran across the room to collapse on her bed. She screamed into her pillow. She pulled her hair out. She threw a temper tantrum. After she'd exhausted herself, she went into the adjoining bathroom, intending to take a shower. But as she turned towards the mirror, she found she couldn't stand to look at herself. She ran out to her window, still open, climbing onto the ledge. She looked down at the cars passing two stories below. So simple. No more fighting to try and stay principled. Why exactly did the genomes give her a moral compass? So she could agonize over when she easily snapped someone's neck? Her tears became more intense. The back of her head started to hurt. She leaned forward. Her fingers began to slip from the sides of the window. A thrill came into her fingers. She closed her eyes. She stopped crying. She felt like she was flying. She could have stayed there forever.

But she couldn't. She was jolted back into reality by the ring of her room phone. She walked over to it, assuming it was her father. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now. But he would need to hear from her or he would worry, all the way from Australia, where he was currently working.

"Hello?" A voice that was most definitely not Slade's came on the line. It was distorted, like it was being spoken through a filter or something.

"I would suggest you leave your room with all haste. Wouldn't want something to happen to _Daddy's Little Girl_ would we?" The voice turned mocking. "That is, if you have the proper mental capacity for it." Joanna did a quick scan of the room. She didn't hang up. "Ten seconds, pudding pop." She saw a small device in a dark corner. "Five," she left the phone hanging and ran for it. "Four," she ran back across the room. "Three," she jumped to the roof of the building across the street. "Two…" She hit her leg on the side, pulled herself up, and threw the device into the air. "One." Joanna curled into a ball, bracing herself for the shockwave. Instead, she was assailed by little bits of confetti with tiny little "ha"s printed on them. Her heart now going a million and a half miles an hour, she decided to run on rooftops a bit, try to calm down.

It was therapeutic, really, jumping above others and landing on their homes. Her gear was bulky, but she was used to running with it. It was just irritating, bumping against her back and legs. Running also meant her focus was not on her previous actions or their potential consequences or bombs with confetti or terrifying voices or anything. She made her way around the town, passing a few major roads and an old crumbling structure. This she explored thoroughly. Then she was on her way back to her hotel.

As she was taking a breather, she heard a cry from below. Looking down, she found that she was positioned over an alleyway where a woman was being cornered by several men, the ringleader of which had a scar over his eye. Joanna felt at her leg. She still had her knives with her. She felt the familiar but disliked weight of an odd gun she couldn't put a name to on her back. Who would know? The LoS would only know as much as she told them. She found a dark gray hoodie near one of her feet. Yay for stupid German teenagers. She quickly pulled her gun off her back and pulled the hoodie on. The thing smelled like foot. But it would do. She pulled the hood up and closed it the most she could manage and breathe.

She jumped off the roof, landing on a fire escape across the alley. She set her gun on the feeble railing, aiming for the ground near Thug #1's feet. Her landing would have been silent if the grate was steady. But being older than possibly Lord Al Ghul, when she moved on it, it made noises like a very high-pitched cat dying. It hurt her ears. It got the attackers' attention. She started firing at their feet.

"Now back off before I get really angry." They stayed in place. Damn unilingual idiots. She was barely a year and had already started Chinese. They looked about thirty and knew only German. She made a face at them, and started shooting again. She put away the gun when she ran out of ammo and pulled out her knives. "Time to get going." She muttered to herself. She jumped down from her perch, charging. As she passed each man, she cut him shallowly. She worked her way to the woman, turning when she got to her.

"Well, tactically this was stupid," was her only comment when she got there. The ringleader stepped forward, pulling what looked like a whip made of fire from his pocket. "Yup. A _really_ bad idea." She turned to the woman behind her. "If you get a chance, I suggest you run." She turned back to the man. "I really don't want to hurt you. That doesn't mean I won't if I need to. Now walk away. Last chance." She showed more bravado than she felt. Dammit. She wished Slade were there. He might not help, but it would definitely make her feel better. She stood at the ready as he approached, when out of nowhere a bullet plowed through his forehead. He fell, leaving Joanna shocked and the woman behind her on the verge of vomiting. She tried to run out from behind Joanna, but Joanna held her back.

"Stay here, do you want to be next?" She pulled them both to the wall, sticking to the shadows. Stay cool, stay hidden…

"Stay vigilant." The distorted voice called from behind her. She pulled the German woman in front of her.

"Run," she whispered in her ear. The message got across, with the woman taking off down and out of the alley. Joanna started to turn, halting when she felt cold steel press against the neck of the hoodie. She heard the sound of whoever was behind her breathing in something, probably something to change their vocal chords.

"Don't move a muscle." Joanna stayed still. "I'm going put something in the front pocket of your jacket. I want you to keep your eyes on the wall, _daddy's girl_, and don't look at what I give you until you get back to your hotel room. Understand? Nod yes or no." Joanna was still. The steel cut through the fabric and started moving to her neck. "Come on, you aren't that stupid. Nod. Yes or no." Joanna pondered, deciding she didn't want to die in an alleyway in Germany. She slowly nodded. "Good." A purple-gloved hand reached around and slipped an envelope into her front pocket. "Now get the hell out of here." The blade was gone. Joanna spun around, trying to catch a glimpse of her assailant. There was nothing. Joanna spent the next ten minutes huddled on the roof where she had found the hoodie rocking back and forth, softly calming herself down. When she was ready to head back, she lost the hoodie; the smell was really starting to bother her. She was about to walk away when another bullet hit near her feet, practically undoing all of the fear-control she had just attempted. But she did remember the envelope, and snatched it up before starting her sprint to her room.

Upon her arrival, she found the phone ringing off the hook. She groaned. She was too damn tired for this. But how else to stop it? She picked up the receiver.

"'Ello? This better be good because I am freaking tired and need to sleep. You have one sentence. Make it good."

"Hey kiddo. Just checking up on you."

"Thanks, I'm..." she breathed out. "I'm not alright, but I'm gonna be okay. It's nearly two in the morning here. I'm gonna catch some zzz's. Call you in the morning. Love you Daddy."

"Love you too, precious." She hung up. But contrary to what she told Slade, she pulled the envelope out of a pocket in her pants. It looked plain enough, but her gut said it was more than it seemed. Her palms grew sweaty as she opened it. She pulled out a card with a string of eleven numbers on it. They didn't make any sense, with whatever code she used. Granted, she didn't know many, but they were all high-level. Her tired eyes started to drift shut. She slapped herself. Have to stay awake. She should have left the phone ringing. The phone? A half-formed idea took root in her mind. She picked up the receiver, and dialed the number. It rang for a while, before going to the answering machine somewhere.

"_Hi, you've reached Kendra and Mike Shorthal. We're not here right now, but if you leave your name and number we'll get back to you when we can!_" Joanna almost dropped the phone. The name was unfamiliar, but the voice… female, about 22, American accent. Scarily similar to... she pushed it out of her mind. She hung up and picked back up and dialed again. Prepared to listen again to the message. Instead, the call was picked up.

"Hello?" a gruff voice answered. Joanna was unsure what to say. She breathed in, decided.

"Hello? I received a card with this number on it." Pause. Voices in the background.

"What is your name?" Joanna had to think a moment before she remembered her cover identity.

"Katherine. Katherine Erikson."

"Where are you?"

"A hotel in Berlin. Listen, are you the owner of this phone?" a faint whooshing noise came through the earpiece.

"No. This number belonged to Kendra Shorthal and her husband Mike. We recently found the bodies of both. Was there anything with the card you received?"

"…No. I didn't find anything."

"My colleagues will be there soon to pick it up." Joanna looked down at herself. Gear. Bloody. Overall distressed looking. She needed to clean up.

"How soon?"

"Twenty minutes." She forced herself calm.

"Okay. I'll see them then. Will that be all?"

"Until they get there, yes."

"Okay. Thank you." She hung up. Dumped her gear in the darkest corner. Ran through the shower at the speed of light. Pulled on her pajamas just before Wonder Woman and Superman came swooping in through the window. Her hair was still wrapped up in a towel. She started listing every expletive she knew in her mind. She had gotten tangled up with the JUSTICE LEAGUE?

* * *

And so the plot advances! Any guesses who gave her the number? Why are Kendra and Mike relevant? Is Katherine Erikson the father of Martella's love child? Why am I ending this chapter like a soap opera?


	11. Freizeitpark Tegel

HEY GUESS WHO'S NOT DEAD! But seriously, I'm sorry for how long this took to get out. Not only did the chapter refuse to be written, but the computer I work on decided to be all butt-sy and not charge, leaving me computerless for almost a week. On the bright side, it's back up (for now...). Anyway, thanks so much for your patience with this and I'm sorry for abandoning you at a cliffhanger like I did. But this chapter has several interesting revelations and I hope you can forgive me for my idiocy. It's also extra long!

* * *

The friggin' Justice League. Ra's would kill her, bring her back to life, and then kill her again. After everyone else at the LoS. Her heartbeat skyrocketed. There was no way for this to end well. And yet, the only coherent thought she could iterate was;

"The Justice League handles common murder cases now?" Wonder Woman and Superman shared a look. Clearly, they hadn't been expecting a teenager all alone. Wonder Woman and Superman shared another look. He seemed to be pleading, and she was looking irritated. They seemed to settle the tacit argument when Wonder Woman spoke up.

"Well, little one," Joanna flinched. She wasn't that small. She wasn't small, period, "the couple who of which you speak has been murdered by the Joker. We're waiting to see if he has any other victims. Trying to find a pattern. May I see the card you received the phone number on?" Joanna fumbled, trying to surreptitiously wipe her fingerprints and not get any more on it. She handed it over. Superman finally spoke up.

"How did you receive this?" Joanna cast her mind about.

"I- um, I was sleeping, when a noise woke me up. The window was open, and the card was on the other bed." Wonder Woman raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. The woman wasn't intimidating at all.

"Which bed were you sleeping in?" Joanna gestured to the bed that she had slept in the night previous and made earlier the previous morning. She had made sure the cleaning ladies stayed out of her room, so they didn't find anything they shouldn't have. It was tidy enough to pass for "made in a hurry".

"I clean when I'm nervous."

"Understandable."

"So… the Joker was in my room?" Superman looked up from a scan of the room, just before the corner where Joanna had dumped her gear.

"It looks that way, unless he's got a new lackey like Harley Quinn." He picked up with his scan just past the danger zone. Wonder Woman was closely inspecting the card.

"We have to get this to Batman. He'll be able to look more closely than us." Superman looked insulted. "Stop giving me that face, you know it's true."

"Think we should stay and ask her a few more questions?" he gestured to Joanna with his thumb. First they act like she's just a child, now she wasn't even worth a proper noun.

"'Her' has a name!" she burst out. They both looked her direction surprisedly. "I have no idea what's going on," bullshit, "there was this madman in my room while I was sleeping," bullshit, "and now the two people who are supposed to be some of the supposedly 'nicest' people alive," not entirely bullshit, "barely acknowledge my presence! All I honestly want to do is get to sleep, and forget tonight ever happened." True. So very true. She wiped her nose, which had started running. Don't cry, don't cry, DON'T CRY DAMMIT. Superman looked uncomfortable, and Wonder Woman seemed to be having a conversation with the paint on the underside of the roof. Then, through the ceiling, floated Martian Manhunter. Joanna sat down, making a weak noise. Could this night get any worse? He walked – floated? –Over to her. He had a deep, steady voice, something that almost reminded her of Ra's, but Manhunter's voice was deeper than even Ra's'. He sat down next to her.

"What is your name?"

"Katherine Erikson."

"How old are you?"

"Six- no, I just turned seventeen two weeks ago."

"Your parents sent you here alone?"

"Yeah. It was an early graduation present. But, um, we don't spend much time together. So yeah, it's just me." BS. All of it. His giant brow-bones furrowed.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'm… I'm used to it." BS.

"You said they were in here while you were sleeping?" It took her a moment to remember whom he was talking about.

"Joker? Yes. At least, that was the only time he could've been in here." BS, it was.

"I am going to try and comb your subconscious for any details that might help us. It will only take a moment, and it shouldn't hurt. Do you understand?" Crap crap crap. She tried to clear her mind or focus on something that wasn't the League of Shadows, but there weren't many choices. She started to feel a prodding at the back of her head, before a piercing pain stabbed into her lower brain.

"AGH!" she cried out. Superman and Wonder Woman looked up from their perusal of her bed, looking for… she didn't know and didn't care at the moment. She looked at Martian Manhunter, suddenly feeling less amiable than before. "I thought you said it wouldn't hurt." He looked at her curiously.

"It normally doesn't, believe me. You seem to have formed some kind of… scar tissue around your psyche. Is there anything that might have caused that?" Her mind drifted to a helmet and not being in control of her actions. Her kicking Sportsmaster out of her head. But Manhunter couldn't exactly know that.

"No. Nothing. Could it just be natural?" He looked puzzled.

"It would be extremely rare, but possible."

"I guess it is." She had to get them out of here before they discovered anything they shouldn't. "I, um, I realize this will sound very rude, but would you mind leaving now? I'm really exhausted. I apologize if this interferes with… with the investigation or whatever, but I just… I need to rest." She started wringing her hands. Superman was getting dangerously close to her tools and bloody clothes. He sniffed.

"I smell blood. Are you sure you weren't hurt?" COVER IT. COVER IT COVER IT. She forced a blush and wriggled uncomfortably.

"Um... yes." She didn't make eye contact with either of the men, but shot a meaningful, pleading glance to Wonder Woman. Recognition dawned on her face.

"Ah. Superman, I'm sure the girl is as fine as she is any other time of the month."

"Thank you" Joanna mumbled. The woman's face was hard to lie to. Or the magical lasso, at least.

Superman pressed a hand to his comm. unit. "Hey Batman. Are you still at their house? ... You're at the Batcave? …. We'll be there soon. We also picked up Di-" he shot a glance to Joanna. "Wonder Woman on the way. She'll be coming back with us. Fine, we'll use the zeta-beams. Yes, I know which ones are viable. Lake keeper's cottage in Freizeitpark Tegel. See you in ten." Before they left, Manhunter shot her a comforting look. She could feel him trying to gently prod at her sleep centers, but her scarring was too thick apparently, because she didn't feel anything besides a headache. She shot him a smile anyway. The minute they were out, she closed the window, and went over to the phone and dialed the LoS' number.

"Three league members, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Martian Manhunter, are going to Freizeitpark Tegel. They are likely by the lake. A cottage of some sort. They're probably there already." The phone was then handed to Talia on the other end of the line, who asked how she knew.

"I can't explain now, but I will tell you when I get back."

"Jo-"

"Don't say my name. They might have bugged the hotel phone. Talk to you when I get back." She hung up. And with that, towel still in her hair, she fell on to her bad and promptly started snoring.

She woke up the next morning at 1100 hours, feeling physically rested but still emotionally exhausted. She dragged herself down the stairs and out on the street to a small restaurant where she had breakfast. She brought along a laptop (on loan from the LoS), searching nearby locations she could visit. Time to play tourist then go back home. She curiously looked up the Freizeitpark Tegel. The waterfront looked beautiful. Maybe she would sneak past the residential areas to get a better look than Google Maps gave her. She returned to her room to start cleaning up her gear. Just as she was putting away her knife and getting started on her gun the phone started ringing. She was going to shoot that thing.

"Hello?"

"24?" Joanna groaned.

"What Sportsmaster?"

"Lord al Ghul wants us to work together to get rid of the zeta-tube in the free-side-park table place."

"Freizeitpark Tegel. It's by a lake."

"Who freaking cares?"

"The residents of Berlin clearly care. It's one of the favorite parks in this region."

"Bullshit."

"Okay yeah I made that part up. But the rest is true. When and where?"

"At the park, 1800 hours." He hung up. She talked to the air.

"I'll bring a picnic."

When she arrived at the park, having had to ask for directions multiple times, she was already on edge. The sun was hot. The shady spots were few and far between. Her form-fitting t-shirt was uncomfortable; because while it fit her waist fine, she felt like if she leaned over she was going to fall out of it. D-Cups were a heavy burden for any teenage girl, and given the way they had increased in the past few months, it felt like they were multiplying simply to aggravate her. She scanned the park, looking for Sportsmaster.

She sat down on the grass, checked her watch, looked for Sportsmaster, ignored the advances of several pre-teen boys who seemed awfully interested in standing above her and looking down her neckline, and then took a fifteen minute stroll around the park. She found the lake, and the accompanying cottage with the zeta platform, also finding tackle and several pairs of fishing boots inside. By the time she had made her way back to the entrance to the park, Sportsmaster was there and looking very, very pissed off.

"Oi! Buff blonde idiot!" He turned around. "Wow, I really didn't expect you to actually respond to that. I mean, I was hoping, but just…" she snickered. Sportsmaster glowered.

"Don't think I won't hurt you, you thing." Joanna shut up and started glowering back.

"Well won't this be fun. Stuck on a mission with you, and I can't even be snarky. You just expect me to roll over and do whatever you say, don't you? Don't answer that." She closed the distance between them. He raised a hand, but before he could bring it down on her face, she caught it. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear. You touch me, I will hurt you. The only exception is you save my life, which would never happen."

"Because I wouldn't save your life?"

"Because I wouldn't let you." She started walking. He reluctantly followed.

"You really hate me that much?"

"You seem to forget that you once played ping-pong with my mind. Yes, I hate you that much. Does that come as a surprise?"

"I suppose not."

"He can think rationally! Hell freezes over! Stop the presses!"

"I can think rationally! I am your superior, you thing!" She stopped walking and turned around to glare at him.

"And I have a name! I am not 'thing', 'it', 'bitch', or 'whore'. I am Joanna. And you will have to deal with that. You don't have to like me, which would be asking too much, but I do expect the same basic modicum of recognition you give other people. That means no more '24' bullshit."

"And if I say no?" She started walking to the zeta-beam/cottage hybrid again.

"When we get back home I will beat your ass so hard you will wish you had never been born until you accept my basic humanity."

"You think of that hellhole as a 'home'?"

"Given that it's the only place I've ever lived, yes."

They continued in silence, Sportsmaster focusing on the mission, and Joanna trying to. There was something about the man that just irritated her. She thought back to her choppier, more confusing memories, piecing together a scene from her days of greasy hair and smelling gross constantly. Training. Getting her face slammed into a pillar. Being hosed off in the court garden. Okay. Maybe she knew why he irritated her.

"Hey, we've passed that tree twice!" Joanna was shot out of her reverie. She took a quick look at her surroundings, realizing he was right.

"Oh. Um… I was thinking."

"No apology?"

"I don't normally apologize, and I don't think I should say I'm sorry for thinking. I'm often told I'm… dammit what's the word? Pig-headed. Mulish." She paused and started walking again. "The modern English vernacular is so weird sometimes."

"Modern English what? Veneers?"

"Vernacular. 'The language or dialect spoken by the ordinary people in a particular country or region'. In simpler terms, common language."

"Did you just quote a dictionary?" She blushed a bit and scowled.

"Is that a problem?"

"It's weird."

"Says the man who runs around at night wearing a hockey mask." He scowled behind her. The thing had banter. And when it had talked about beating him into the ground, it had actually managed to intimidate him. Well, not intimidate, but the closest approximation his pride could stand.

She stepped through the foliage in front of him, which opened onto the lakeshore. She started walking purposefully to the cottage on the side. It was closer to a decrepit old shack, really, but apparently it served the league's purposes.

"I'm guessing you have whatever we're using to destroy the eyesore because I know I certainly don't." Sportsmaster raised an eyebrow at her question.

"I have nothing whatsoever. I assumed you'd have everything."

Joanna mumbled under her breath. "Assuming makes an ass of you and me." Then, to Sportsmaster, "I got nothing. We could try kicking it down. It would probably work, speaking honestly. And then use the debris to destroy the actual platform itself."

"Idiot. That might work for the shack, but the platforms are made of something pretty difficult to destroy. I don't know what it is, but it's resistant to half dead wood from old buildings."

Joanna wisely bit back a response about "half dead wood" and continued brainstorming.

"How much does an average platform weigh?"

"Why?"

"Well, even if they'd have to be water resistant with Atlantis and all, they would probably have to be specifically proofed for that, or have regular repairs or something. Water plus technology equals broken technology, right? We are next to a lake." Sportsmaster nodded, seeing where this was going. "So, water, pressure, and the constant nibbling from fishies spells doom for the zeta platform."

"Sounds like it might work. But what happens when the League finds out?"

"This will sound rude but supervillians usually ignore Germany, with the exception of the Von Gunthers, and they are both in their eighties now, so they will not pose a threat. The only thing we might have to worry about is an alien invasion, which we are scheduled for in eight-ish months. The League will have no reason whatsoever to come here. They were pushing domestic deployment treaties for peacetime in coming here last night, even if they aren't an official army."

"I stopped listening around the Von Gunthers, but the basic message is 'nobody gives two shits about Germany', right?" Joanna pulled a face.

"Plenty of people care about Germany. But yes, that was the point, if a little more crude."

"Cry me a river. Between the two of us, can we lift it?"

"That's why I asked you how much a platform weighs."

"No clue. But let's get going and find out." He headed to the shack. Joanna followed.

"Wait! We should sweep the area, to make sure nobody else is here." She did a quick run around, leaving Sportsmaster in careful reflection on life for fifteen minutes. "Life", meaning "booze and women". Maybe he'd call a hooker later; god knew he hadn't time lately for any escapades. When Joanna came scampering back, he saw her trying rather futilely to keep her breasts from flying about with an irritated expression. He grinned devilishly.

Joanna, on the other hand, was shooting daggers at her bustline. There she had been; clearing the area, when out of nowhere something hit her face. At first she thought it might have been a soccer ball or something similar, but when she looked there was nothing of the sort. She continued on. She got back up to speed, when again something hit her face. She scanned the area for any sign of pranksters, finding nothing. She started moving again, now on alert. The third time something had approached her face, she had caught it one handedly, and had seen her hand holding back her very own breast. Needless to say, she was not amused.

She moved back to where Sportsmaster was with a very unpleasant expression on his face, and whapped the side of his head.

"Let's get going, slowpoke." She walked into the "cottage" and started kicking down the wall nearest the lake. It was old and feeble enough that she managed it alone, and as Sportsmaster walked in she was positioning herself on one side of the shiny platform, bending at the knees and getting a grip on the underside of it. Sportsmaster looked down at her rather condescendingly, as it was his manner, but bent as well and grabbed onto the side.

"Ready?" he asked.

"On three. One," breath, "Two," brace, "three," lift. Joanna grunted. How heavy was this thing? Lift with your legs, she reminded herself. She started to straighten out her legs, only to see that Sportsmaster had lifted his end higher than hers. _Don't you dare lose to him, Joanna Marie! Don't you dare!_ Her eyes blazed. In a sudden burst of unknown strength, she managed even out with him. _Good girl_. She choked out words.

"Start- start moving it- onto its side." She glanced at his irritatedly confused face. Did the man ever have positive emotions? She groaned exasperatedly. "Like a coin, dumbo. Then- roll it in-" sharp inhalation, "to the lake. We can't carry it the- whole. Bloody. Way!" he grunted in acknowledgement. "Good. Push your side up;" breath, "you're taller than me. I'll push down and then into the lake it goes." After a few more strenuous minutes of shoving and ladylike grunting, Joanna was satisfied with the angle of the platform. "Ready?" she breathlessly asked Sportsmaster.

"Give- Give me a minute."

"'Kay." She discreetly rolled her eyes. Old people. But after Sportsmaster had caught his breath they started pushing the disc to the shoreline.

"You're sure nobody's around?"

"Wasn't anyone ten minutes ago, and this area is actually on just on the border of an academy whose name I can't pronounce, so the most we'd have to worry about would be a wayward student, and they aren't likely to come here." Sportsmaster shrugged, doubts taken care of for the moment. They continued with the platform-turned-disc when Joanna saw a child in the water, which, due to Murphy's Law, was smack dab in the middle of the platform's path. Alarm sprang into Joanna's eyes like wildfire.

"Stop the platform!"

"What?"

"There's a kid out there, we need to stop it!"

"The kid?"

"The friggin' platform, genius!"

"If he has half a brain he'll hear it and leave!" Joanna started screaming at the boy to run, but the biggest reaction she got was when he turned to look for the fish he had felt pass his leg. He was about five, treading water several meters away from the shoreline. He couldn't wait to surprise his _mutti_ with how good he could swim!

On Joanna's side of things, the atmosphere wasn't near as cheerful. The platform had reached the edge of the water, about ten feet away from the boy.

A ripple caused by the disc reached him. He looked around expectantly for his _mutti_ but was sorely disappointed to see a strange round thing coming towards him and two people with it. The lady seemed to be trying to hold it back, but the man seemed to be yelling at her and kept pushing it towards him. The lady, seeing that it was useless to try and stop the man, started slogging through the water to him. He saw her mouth form words, and her flail her arms, but he was petrified in fear. She was closer now, but so was the round thing. And the round thing was getting faster.

The water was up to Joanna's knees and the boy was still almost four feet away. She pushed herself even more but the combined stress of a mission, nearly being murdered, having to work with Sportsmaster and lifting approximately 250 pounds in the past 24 hours was taking its toll on her. She forced it out of her mind, calling up every ounce of determination and training she had, and in a moment lengthened by clarity, she saw the bald headed truth. There was no way for this to go where both she and the boy went unharmed. Her CADMUS training kicked in. Save yourself. Get out. Don't be seen. _No! Override it. Override it! _She forced herself to continue to the boy. Reached him a millisecond before the platform. Shoved him out of the way. Heard, in almost slow motion, Sportsmaster yell out "Demon's Servant!" Felt herself fall and the platform roll over her midriff, heard something snap. Felt everything go black.

On the Shoreline:

"_Johann! Herzchen! Wo bist du_?" a woman, close to hysterics, screamed on the shore. A little girl, two or three, clung to her mother's skirt.

"_Mutti? Wo ist Johann_?" The blonde woman swallowed her fear and looked at her little Ilse.

"_Er sagte, er wolle Schwimmen. Er ist noch nicht zurück."_ Irena Holzfäller shaded her eyes and searched for the figure of her son.

The appearance of the two didn't go unnoticed by one Lawrence Crock, who receded into the treeline. The brat should have stayed out of the way.

Little deaf Johann, however, was searching for the lady who had just saved his life. He paddled over to where she had gone down, pulled on his goggles and dove. He saw her at the bottom of the lake in that space, about ten feet down, pinned by the weird round thing. She wasn't breathing.

He surfaced and saw his _mutti_ on the shore, and, as he looked for someone strong enough to lift the thing, his eyes landed on the man who tried to stop the lady in the water. He started to swim over, waving to his _mütterchen_. She started to run over, his baby sister now in her arms.

Johann reached the shore and started pulling on the man's pant leg, and gesturing to the spot where the lady was.

* * *

Time for German translations!

Mutti: mama

Herzchen! Wo bist du?: Darling/ducky! (don't ask, I don't know) Where are you?

Wo ist Johann?: Where is Johann?

Mütterchen: mother

Er sagte, er wolle Schwimmen. Er ist noch nicht zurück.: He said he was going swimming. He is not back yet.

Also yes, Johann is deaf. Just thought I should clarify that, in case it wasn't clear from the whole "he couldn't hear Joanna screaming at him to get the hell out of the way" thing. Also, everything I know about Germany and the German language comes from the lovely folks at Google.

Oh and the "boob hitting face" phenomena actually happened to a friend of mine.

R&R and the next chapter will (hopefully) be out quicker because I'll feel like I have a responsibility to you guys!


	12. Complications (Big time)

So. So so so so so. I am sorry this has taken so long. And so, sans the usual pomp and circumstance (cue music) chapter twelve!

* * *

Sportsmaster tried to ignore the boy's endeavors to get him to go and save the brat, short of bodily moving him elsewhere. But the kid just wouldn't go away. Sportsmaster groaned in frustration. The woman and little girl came around the tree, which he had been staying behind (he refused to say "hiding") and ran toward the brat pulling on his leg. His gaze eased to the spot on the lake where the thing had gone down. In his periphery, the kid seemed to be signing to his mother. Oh, so he was deaf. That would explain why he hadn't gotten out of the way during the thing's flailing and ear-splitting show. The woman gasped and looked to the lake, then back at Sportsmaster. He didn't like that look. She began to yell at him in German and gesturing to the lake. He raised an eyebrow, which could be interpreted many ways, but was read by the woman as "why should I care?" She responded by pushing him to the lakeshore and pointing. She started yelling at him in German again. He finally got fed up with it.

"I don't ****ing speak German, woman!" She put her hands over her daughter's ears and her face turned very ugly. She switched to heavily accented English.

"A girl is drown and you are here, teach my dear little girl swears like nothing is not good! You go out and help her immediate or I call _polizei_!" He stayed where he was, unimpressed. He was about to walk away when he remembered Joanna's previous statement of "_because I wouldn't let you_". If he saved her life it would drive not only her, but Deathstroke up the wall. His devilish grin crept back on his face. And as an added bonus, he wouldn't have to worry about being seen. As the German woman started getting out her phone, he started wading.

Johann saw the big man going out into the lake, and rushed to follow. The lady had saved his life; he wanted to help save her! His _mutti_ had noticed him going with into the water, and started signing for him to come back. He, ever the rebel, pretended he couldn't see and kept following the man. When they had gotten to the point where the lady had fallen, Johann pulled on the man's sleeve and pointed downward. The man, looking irritated, took a deep breath and dove down. Johann dove as well, reaching the bottom quickly, where the man was trying to move the disc off the lady. Johann moved to help, but the man waved him away. Johann then in turn waited by the lady to pull her out of the way.

After multiple trips to get air and more shoving of the disc, Sportsmaster finally figured he could just pull Joanna out from under it. Johann had already started pulling, but his five-year-old arms weren't able to do much. She was unconscious, so she wasn't breathing, but she had been underwater for so long already, that Johann was worried she wasn't unconscious but dead. Sportsmaster tapped the kid on the shoulder and signaled to him to move. Sportsmaster pried the girl from the mud covering the bottom of the lake, pulling her feet free from under the disc. He slung her over his shoulder and started swimming up. Johann started swimming too, but more in the direction of the shoreline than Sportsmaster was going.

When Sportsmaster surfaced, gasping for air, the kid was still on his shoulder. But somehow, while he was paddling over to the shore, her legs had come around and over his other shoulder, so he was now sporting a new scarf. The woman on the shore was holding her little boy and chastising him in sign language, and failed to notice as Sportsmaster slipped away with Joanna.

Three hours later, Joanna woke to the night sky and pain in her lower back. She felt around, groggily discovering grass and various detritus under her hands, before her hand wrapped around something covered in fabric. She felt lower, discovering a boot. As she was about to pull away, a steel grip closed around her wrist. She reflexively thrust the heel of her hand to where she approximated her enemy's face to be. A second hand grabbed it before she could make contact. She moved to swing a leg around but found that they weren't responding to her commands.

"No…" she whispered. All her attention was diverted to her legs. She wrenched her hands from the other person's grip and started prodding. She could feel her fingers on her legs, but why wouldn't they move? She began to softly cry, soft whimpers and high-pitched squeaks. No more walking, no more jumping, no more anything. What use did the LoS have for an agent who couldn't walk? _Relax,_ she told herself. _It can't be as bad as you think. You can still feel things, right? So they should be able to move at least a little. _She started regulating her breathing. _In, two three, out, two, three._ She tentatively started trying to wiggle her toes. Pushing herself onto one elbow, she sat up. _Can you sit up by yourself? Good. _She straightened up. _Breathe. Take it slow. _She changed from wiggling her toes to rolling her ankles. Then the knees. She eventually managed to pull herself into a kneeling position._ Okay Jo. Breathe. Just like in the first few months._ Push on the ground with your hands, start straightening your legs, unbend your back. After many false starts and near misses, she eventually managed to get into a leaning position against a tree. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she started moving towards the lights from the road. Her steps were unsteady, but she managed to keep from falling over mostly, until she tripped over someone's leg. Her face landed in a puddle of mud.

"Gah. Sorry." She said to the person whose legs she had tripped over. There was an irritated grunt. "…Sportsmaster? What are you still doing around? Come to think of it, how am I not on the bottom of a lake right now?" Another grunt. "I'm going to take that as you not caring. I'm going back to the hotel where I'm staying now." Grunt. She quickly stood back up and began to walk slowly away, exhaustedly leaning on trees for support.

The unfamiliar roadways were empty now, save the occasional hoodlum, but given her growing easiness with walking, Joanna figured she would be able to make it to the hotel before morning. It was around eleven-thirty, far as she knew, before Murphy's Law made a reappearance.

She had found her hotel with shockingly less trouble than she had expected, but as she entered her room Martian Manhunter sitting on one of the beds surprised her unpleasantly.

"Tā mā de…" _Damn it_. He looked up from his contemplation of something, she didn't know what. She had made sure all her weapons were in the room's safe, but steel and iron weren't much good against intangibility.

"Miss Erikson. There has been a…" he seemed to ponder wording a moment. "Change in the case regarding Mr. And Mrs. Shorthal. I thought you might want to know." Joanna managed to look sleepy and quizzical at the same time. "Ahem. When you called last night, only Batman had seen the bodies of the couple. The rest of the league viewed them just this morning. And…" he pulled some photos from an unseen pocket or something. "Superman, Wonder Woman and I noticed some similarities." He handed the pictures to her. "These were taken a month before the couple's disappearance a week ago." Joanna very nearly threw up. Kendra Shorthal knew how to make her features work for her. Softening her sharp eyes. She downplayed a beaky nose. Brought attention to her full lips. Joanna found herself looking at her face plus six years, smiling next to a man with dark features.

"Oh my God." She sat down on the bed next to Manhunter.

"I think we know why the Joker was here last night." He said slowly.

"Th-" sniffle. Compose face. "Thank you for telling me this. I'll be very careful." He looked at her and cautiously continued.

"The league would like to have someone escort you for the remaining duration of your stay and to the airport when you leave." Joanna looked up from the photos.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm leaving tomorrow. There's no need for an bodyguard, really." The Martian looked uncomfortable.

"I apologize for the misunderstanding, Miss Erikson, but the league has already decided. I cannot say I disagreed with them, either. The Joker has surprisingly good resources and it would not shock me to know he knew at this moment which flight you are leaving on and was sabotaging it as we speak." Joanna was perilously close to snoozing off, and Manhunter noticed. "I will leave you be. You will need you rest for your trip tomorrow. When does your flight leave?"

"Three thirty PM." She answered drowsily.

"The league will send someone over to take you to the airport. I assume you'll be in your room most of the day packing?" he gestured to the mess covering most of the floor.

"Most likely."

"Someone will be here at noon tomorrow. Have a pleasant evening." He went through the door and presumably left the hotel.

Joanna felt tired, but the new developments meant that the zeta tube would be put into use tomorrow. Damn. She looked at the clock. Almost midnight. Not enough time to go back to the zeta tube, and certainly not enough time (or energy) to put it right. Both leagues would just have to deal. She changed into her usual pajamas, sweats and a tank top, brushed her teeth, and flopped into bed.

Habit forced her awake at six the following morning, where she commenced morning calisthenics. After she had been rendered sore in places she hadn't known she had places, around eight, she took a shower. The rest of the morning went without incident, but with an underscored tension. She kept on counting down the hours until she would be in the lion's den. As she was double-checking her gear, she whispered a desperate cry for help; she had no idea to whom. She ended up sitting in the lobby, checked out, her single bag next to her, when a round-faced girl with red hair walked right up to her.

"Katherine Erikson, right? My uncle sent me." Joanna looked confusedly. The girl whapped a palm on the side of her head. "Hello Megan! Martian Manhunter. He's my uncle." She smiled cheerily. Joanna was slightly thunderstruck. She opened and closed her mouth several times before finding her voice.

"O-kay?" The girl, whom she deduced to be Miss Martian, grabbed her wrist and started pulling her to the stairs. "Um. Miss Martian, right? Where are we going?" Miss M., as Joanna was starting to call her, smiled back at her.

"To the bioship. You got all your stuff?" Joanna nodded. As they entered the stairwell, Joanna found herself to be floating alongside Miss M.

"Holy crap." She cautiously looked down, then quickly looked up again and scrunched her eyes shut. She didn't open them again until she felt solid ground beneath her feet. She opened her eyes to the top of the stairwell and a door leading outside, which was already partway open. As she stepped into the sunlight, shading her eyes, she saw nothing. Her gut told her something was there, for sure, but her eyes? For all the microscopic rods and cones in her eyes, her optic nerve registered nothing. She cast a wary glance at Miss M. She didn't look threatening. But then most people at the LoS didn't look threatening either.

"I don't see anything." She cautiously shifted into a position where it would be easier to attack, trying to find a weakness. Martians were weak against fire, right? Her hand tightened around the strap from her bag. Did she have a lighter in there? There was gunpowder, in the bullets, but no spark. She grit her teeth. Damn. She looked back up. And there, on the middle of the roof, was a red and blue thing. It looked like it might be a plane, but it also had some odder, more oriental design features. It was almost absolutely alien in origin.

"I'm to assume this is the bioship?" The redhead nodded. Did she ever stop smiling? It didn't seem likely. Having grown up around people who most likely only smiled when they were killing someone, the constant cheeriness was unnerving. A hatch opened, around the back of the thing. The Martian floated in, Joanna following quietly. _Into the mouth of the beast…_ she was glancing around her surroundings, when a giant grayish-pink slug assaulted her, slobbering all over her face. She pushed out instinctively.

"Wolf! Down!" a voice eerily familiar to Superman's called to the attacking white thing. After it had gotten all four paws on the floor, Joanna could see that it was …a white wolf, standing almost to her shoulder. She quirked her lips to the side, while thinking about how very original the name was. She looked up at the voice's owner. Her blood started to boil.

"Pleasure to meet you, Superboy." Keep face composed.

"Hey." Don't start attacking him.

"Thank you both for this." Try to avoid making eye contact.

"Not a problem, really!" that's right. Focus on Miss Martian. You don't hate her. Yet. She was still smiling that smile though, so that was now out of the option. Joanna looked back at the giant wolf. He (she thought it was a he) was sniffing about her ankles. She cautiously moved a hand towards his downfacing nose, trying to get him to sniff at it, but he was immersed in the hemline of her jeans. Crookedly smiling, she shifted her focus to his ears. He leaned into her hand, and happily followed her to her seat on the bioship (which she was pretty sure hadn't been there a moment ago). As Joanna looked around the bioship a bit more, she saw another girl dressed in green with a bow (where had she seen that chin before?). She sat down, placing her bag at her feet, and Wolf placed his head in her lap and seemed to doze off.

"Is he usually this affectionate?" Miss M. looked at Wolf a moment, before smiling even bigger, if possible.

"Not always, but there are a chosen few. Superboy, Red Arrow, you." Joanna pondered this a moment, but she didn't see any sort of pattern. Maybe it was just the dog. Wolf, she mentally corrected. Canine. Mammal of lupine variety. Something like that. She absentmindedly stroked behind his ears as they flew to the airport. Out of the blue, Artemis shot out of her seat and turned towards the Martian. Superboy's face was tight.

"Are you serious? What if he decides he does want to show up?" Katherine shot her a weird look. Artemis didn't care. M'Gann was going to get herself killed at this rate.

_ Come on, Superboy! You know you agree with me! _Silence.

_I don't like it. _After a moment,M'Gann spoke up.

_There shouldn't be any trouble. _

_But there might be. _Artemis sat back down and pulled her knees to her chest. _Can't we at least send Superboy with you?_ M'Gann shot her a sympathetic but firm look.

_Superboy needs to go with the one who has neither telepathic, telekinetic, shape-shifting abilities nor Black Canary's training under her belt. I can handle myself enough against the Joker. _She turned her attention back to the bioship. Artemis pouted. Conner furrowed his brow.

Joanna had been watching their body language intently, still loving on Wolf. After some internal debate, she spoke up.

"Anyone want to clue me in as to what the plan for getting me onto the plane is?" Artemis looked at her.

"You didn't hear any of that?" Joanna looked at her quizzically.

"No, I didn't."

"Miss M., did you link her up?" Realization dawned on the redhead's face.

"Oh, no, I forgot. Sorry Katherine!" She closed her eyes. Joanna felt a prickle in her brain and the start of a dull headache. Remembering her previous experience with Martian telepathy, she held up a hand.

"Um… did Manhunter tell you about my …problem with telepathy?" the prickle disappeared.

"Hello Megan! Of course he told me. I don't know where my mind is today!" Joanna quirked an eyebrow.

"You seem to say that a lot. Is it a catchphrase or something?" the Martian's face turned pink. Which, to Joanna, was odd seeing how she was green.

"Sorta. It's just a habit."

"Oh. Anyway, how am I getting on the plane? Are you guys just dropping me off at the entrance, or…" she trailed off. The Martian explained.

"I'm going to shapeshift into you, get to the plane the usual way. I'll also be checking your bags. You are going straight to the plane. The league has already called ahead to let the airport know of the circumstances. You get directly on the plane, head home to Taipei." Artemis cut in.

"Here's where you need to really listen. When you get home, you need to avoid talking to people until you get to where you are staying. There are some really bad people who we think are based in Taipei. You cannot, repeat, cannot, run into them because these people are trained killers, and we don't know if Joker has made a deal with them or not." Joanna tried to feign some semblance of fear. The only LoS member she really had to worry about was Sportsmaster. The truth hit her like a ton of bricks. She looked closely at the green archer. So that was why she looked so familiar.

Miss Martian noticed the look of shock on Joanna's face and concernedly asked her what was wrong. Joanna tightly hugged Wolf's neck. He responded with a soft growl.

"Sorry boy," she whispered. To Miss Martian, "It's just sinking in that these people want me dead." Miss Martian looked at her consolingly.

"It'll be over soon. We're here." The bioship landed without a sound on the roof of the Berlin Schönefeld Airport.

Miss M. took Joanna's bags, and after staring intently for a moment, shifted into Joanna. This was not surprising, seeing as how they had covered it earlier, but it was an odd sensation to see herself when she knew she was right there. Joanna handed her bags to Miss M., and she took off. Joanna was more than a little surprised when she was quite literally swept off her feet into Superboy's arms. Instinctively, her fist flew towards his face, and rebounded painfully.

"Um... Reflex." She set about cautiously examining her bruise, which is to say she waved her hand around while clutching her wrist. Superboy looked like he would have shrugged if he hadn't had an extra 120 pounds in his arms.

While Joanna had been assaulting Superboy, Artemis had apparently gotten down to the blacktop and cleared the area. She then yelled indistinctly (to Joanna's non-Kryptonian ears) and Superboy proceeded to jump off the roof to the ground. She shot him a frazzled glare.

"A little warning next time?" He was silent. The glare intensified. She shoved herself out of his arms and onto the blacktop. "Thanks for keeping me safe and all that shit, but common courtesy never goes awry." Artemis walked over surprisedly. Wolf (who had jumped down with Superboy) was looking between the two almost curiously. He settled on the scent he knew better and promptly sat down on Superboy's side, nuzzling his pet boy's hand. Joanna, seeing she couldn't win against the wolf and Kryptonian, backed down. She was no longer glaring, but her irritation was still apparent. She got down on one knee and held out her arms.

"Come here you fuzzy white turncoat."

In a quiet, dignified manner, Wolf happily trotted into her embrace. She made a tiny smile, before standing back up and turning to Artemis.

"So, where are we going?"

* * *

End of Chapter note: I'm looking for a better beta-reader than my multiple personalities. they just tell me to burn everything, which is not helpful. Please PM me if you are interested. I need someone who will beat me into the ground if necessary to make the story better. Comprende, mi amigos?

Asterisks. They will be used for word I don't want my family to see me typing. That is how this is going to go down. Use your imagination. If you still can't think of anything, you should probably not be reading this story.

Also, may the odds ever be in your favor! Wait, I mean, Read and Review!


	13. Not free, but gone

So. this took a bit longer than expected. I blame my great-grandma's memoirs. My grandma has me typing them up, and as interesting as they are, I'm more interested in Joanna's life. Sometimes I'll open up the file and expect to see the whole thing written, with all my ideas and the ending I'm working towards (I'm hoping it's gonna be EPIC but not for a lot more chapters). So, finally finished typing and proofreading this and now you have the next chappie!

* * *

Joanna picked her bag up from baggage claim and headed over to the glass doors of the airport, where she was supposedly meeting a car from the LoS. She sighed tiredly. Out the doors, into a heavy rain. Fun. And her without her umbrella. She pulled a light jacket from her bag and put it on. Flipped up the collar to try and keep her ears at least slightly warm. Some idiot on a motorcycle pulled in front of her, very nearly drenching her in the process. The guy driving turned to her.

"Hey there pretty lady, need a ride somewhere?" she rolled her eyes.

"Back off asshole, I'm too tired for this." The rider's shoulders sagged.

"I'm astonished you don't recognize me. My features aren't exactly forgettable, Jo." She perked up.

"Cam?" she walked forward and discreetly lifted the visor on the motorcycle helmet. "How was I supposed to recognize you? You're covering everything." She kissed the top of his helmet.

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot I was wearing it. Anyway, the offer stands. Need a ride? Prince charming on a black motorcycle?" Joanna smiled.

"You got it babe. Toss me a helmet." She slung her bag across her chest and over one shoulder, climbed on the motorcycle, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Beneath the helmet, she smiled. She was tired, some parts of her still wanted to cry, and other parts wanted to scream in fear due to being so close to the justice league, but she laid her head on his shoulder and smiled. Everything was going to be fine.

One month later, windowsill in the training hall, 2400 hours:

"This is nice. Why don't we do this more often?" Joanna murmured softly, leaning into Cameron, looking out at the full moon.

"Because you get obsessed-"

"-Entranced-"

"-Obsessed with the moon and pay no attention to me," he finished, nuzzling her neck. She smiled.

"I do pay attention to you. I just wish I had more eyes so that I wouldn't have to pick one." _Oh, if only there were two of me… the impulsive one, and the long-term decision one._ She cuddled into his arms more. His wiry but strong arms, that were always there for a hug or, more often, a sparring match. He was improving. Lord al Ghul had occasionally watched their training sessions, even more rarely giving her advice on how to teach Cam something. She began to gently run her fingers up and down his arms. As a side effect of his powers, he was always two or three degrees colder than the average human. It was soothing. She turned to face him, moving her hands to his cool chest. His breath started coming out in little puffs of steam, like it always did when he started to get excited. Smiling, she leaned to his jawline, and softly began brushing kisses down his neck. She kept on tracing little swirls on his collarbone with her fingers barely touching him. His hands came to rest on her hips, and started rubbing upward restrainedly.

"Cam," she whispered, "you don't have to play this game with me, you know. There's nothing you can do to hurt me." At her voice, she felt his hands clench, and move to her face. They pulled her mouth to his, him starting gently, waiting for her to make the first move. After she had slipped her tongue into his mouth; that was when he lost it. He pulled her to him, flush against his chest. He moved his hands all over her torso, and switched his mouth from hers to her shoulders, which he knew were her kryptonite. In between the kissing and biting, she could hear his voice, rumbling in his throat.

"Oh God…" she gasped out. "Cameron…" he immediately backed off. She just looked at him irritatedly. "I'm not that delicate, Cam. You don't need to stop every time I get carried away." She jumped down to the floor, and stalked off.

Five months later, train station, 2300 hours:

Everything had gone to hell in a hand basket. Joanna crept alongside the tracks. Lay low, until they won't look at the airports any more. She remembered her dad telling her about a safe house in southern Taiwan. Best shot is to go there and stay quiet for a few months. She would miss them all… especially Cam. She hoped he'd get the note she left. It had been vague, but it had told him she loved him and she prayed he'd forgive her. She couldn't stay anymore. She pulled her jacket closer to her. Clutched her bag. The soft rain pattered on her face, blending with her tears.

_ The first time it happened she had been begrudgingly thanking him for saving her life. As she turned to walk away, she felt something brush past her shoulder. Reflexively, she turned. Sportsmaster caught her hand easily, smiling at her darkly. She walked away, but couldn't get that stupid touch of his out of her head. It haunted her. If he hadn't touched her that first time, if he just hadn't touched her at all…_

No. She would not blame him for this, bastard that he was. She was responsible for this particular pile of shit. She snuck to a train car, forced it open, climbed in. She found herself surrounded by various large cats, many of which were sleeping. She was considering leaving when the door was suddenly closed and the train started moving. _Tā mā de_. She moved as quietly as she could to a pile of hay or straw or something similar, and collapsed into sleep.

_After almost a week, she ran into him again, in an empty hallway. She had tripped and the box of books she had been carrying to her room spilled all over the floor. He had helped her pick them up; warning sign number one. When she looked up, their faces were so close she could feel his breath. He started to lean in towards her… and she, fool that she was, didn't stop him. A first, almost gentle, kiss between them. Then he handed her her books, stood up, and walked away. Joanna sat a moment, stunned. Then, trance-like, she picked up her books and continued to her room. That kiss haunted her like the touch. And eventually… she went to seek him out._

Joanna was unceremoniously woken up by the rattling from the train car door, and blocked the sudden lightening in darkness from her eyes. It was still raining out and the man who had opened the door – a Spanish man with rippling muscles – seemed honestly surprised to have a young woman among the various lions and tigers. She didn't blame him. He did, however, slam the door shut, lock it by the sound of things, and leave shouting "boss". She didn't care. It was another five minutes of fitful sleep.

_The first time she brought the fight to him, so to speak, she was a bit trepidatious, but her stupid, crazy, hormonal, teenage dreams… they had to stop, and if the real thing would stop them, who was she to argue? And Cameron's stupid limits. They would be the dissatisfied death of her. Eventually, she managed to corner him in a dark closet. She could feel him smirking, almost in victory. She didn't get it, but hey, what about life ever made sense for her? She put her hands on his big chest, (damn those pecs were amazing) and leaned in… the only moment of hesitation came when Cam's face flashed in her mind. She stopped; two inches clear of his face. His rough hands started cupping her face, and he huskily whispered, "Joanna…"_

_It had been going on for three months. She had learned his real name; Lawrence. She had very nearly laughed first time she heard it. Their clandestine meetings were never long, and they were far and few between, but when they did meet… it was always just enough to get her to the next time. But she never let him touch her shoulders. The one time he tried that, he ended up with a black eye. It was hardly a healthy relationship. In between soft moans and grunts, she would hear how much she irritated him; she would dig her nails into his shoulders as a response. They would have shouting matches in the training hall when there were others around, she would complain about him when she would talk to Cameron, cuddled up on their windowsill. Oh, yes, she continued things with Cam. She would often make up her mind to break it off with Lawrence, and just stick with Cam, but then she would be in his big arms and he would be kissing her neck and nibbling her ears and she wouldn't be able to think of the words, and another day would pass where she was still cheating on her sweet, supportive boyfriend, who was way too good for her._

The door opened again, and again she shielded her eyes from the change in light. The silhouette of a slightly chubby man was just discernable against the rain.

"What do we have here, Carlo?"

"Stowaway, Haly." The Spanish man answered. Joanna tried unsuccessfully to blend in with the wall of the train car.

"Easy kid. I'm not gonna hurt you." She just heard him mutter to the man next to him, "Fitting she's in with the big cats. She looks like she'd bite my hand off if I came too close." To her again, "what's your name kid?"

_They had gotten caught. Cam had been walking from somewhere to somewhere else. Heard the moans and grunts. Turned to them. There had been an enormous confrontation. Lawrence got yelled at. Cam got a broken nose. Joanna had watched in horror and shame. Cam had just stalked away. She started to run after him, but he looked back at her. That face… she felt guiltier than any time in her memory. She changed direction, ran to her room. Looked out her window, like so many times before. For not the first time, considered jumping, and not coming back up from the waves of the river. But she wasn't good enough for that. Sat thinking until it was dark and she was sore from being so still. Went to Cam's room. She quickly wrote a note, saying she was so sorry and she loved him. Slade was out of town on "business". She pondered leaving him something. She decided against it. It hurt too much. She left for her room. Grabbed a waterproof duffel bag. Threw in an extra shirt and her Katherine Erikson papers. Passport, ID, and a handful of cash she had surreptitiously taken from various persons in the LoS. _

"Katherine Erickson." She answered.

"Why are you on my train, Miss Erikson?"

"I don't mean to stay for long. Just wanted to get to Tainan."

"That doesn't answer my question," the man – Haly, she had heard – said firmly. Joanna looked down, rubbing a piece of hay between her fingers.

"Running." She answered miserably.

"From?"

"Can't say."

"As in, you don't know?"

"As in, I was never supposed to leave them and especially not knowing what I know." Her chin started to tremble. Haly's expression changed to concern.

"Are you saying these people might come after you?" Joanna sniffled.

"If they can find me." During the conversation, the lioness in the cage next Joanna padded over and sniffed Joanna's head, which was leaning against the cage. After a moment of deliberation, the lioness gave Joanna a giant lick from ear to the top of her head, leaving her with a giant cowlick on the side of her head. Mr. Haly softly chuckled.

"Well, the new one seems to like you enough." Haly shot her an appraising look. "And I don't see why you can't travel with us as a roustabout." Joanna's head shot up.

"Are you sure?" Carlo looked at Haly like he was crazy.

"Yeah, what… what she said!"

"It'll be fine as long as she stays out of the public eye. And then, we've been needing another roustabout for a while." Carlo's jaw dropped. "Bear in mind, this isn't a free meal ticket. You'll have to work."

"I can do that." She looked him in the eye. If there was one thing she was good at, it was to follow orders. That and work weapons.

_There wasn't much she could do about weapons. They were all kept in a solid vault most of the time, which was guarded 24/7. But she could bring her books. English, Chinese, a book of short Chinese stories. She didn't have room for much else. Bag in hand, she jumped out her window. Landed in the river outside it with a splash. Lingered a moment longer than was necessary. Swam to the shore and climbed out. Pulled on her jacket. Started running to the train station. The rain started pattering. Only when she was jumping the fence to the train yard did she let the tears start to flow._

She shook herself back to reality as she muttered, "I can do that." Haly looked at her again.

"Carlo, take her to get acquainted with the rest of the troupe, and get her some breakfast."

Carlo, still giving her odd looks and wary glances, started to walk over to where others were congregating. Joanna followed mutely.

"Guys! Haly hired a new girl to help with moving'n'_mierda_!" the twenty-five-man troupe passed in a whirlwind of names and faces. Joanna had to remember to introduce herself as Katherine, which proved easier as time went by, until they switched on her from Katherine to Kathy. One of the other, chattier, girls, Jewel, she thought, had suggested it to make it easier to remember. _Oh if she only knew, _Joanna thought. One person who stood out from the rest was Lorraine, a Senegalese woman who was covered in piercings and tattoos. Her thick dark hair was braided into cornrows, which pulled back into a high ponytail. She was taller than most of the men, and her features were distinctly African, but her eyes, deep and heavy-lidded as they were, sparkled bright green. Her introduction was by far the most interesting of them all.

"…and this is Lorraine. She trains the animals, and is also the resident physician around here." Lorraine extended a hand in greeting, with a soft, "_Bonjour_". Joanna silently returned the handshake. Jewel, who had long since replaced Carlo as her guide, then continued with a "Hey, Lori," (at which Lorraine flinched) "you'll never believe where she was found! Carlo told me she was in with the big cats, next to the new one!" Lorraine's eyebrows rose with this, and she turned to Joanna, and, speaking in a heavy accent, started admonishing her.

"_Fille démente_! Do you have any idea what disaster could have happened? I have not worked with that one, not at all! What were you thinking?" Joanna stood, dumbfounded. Jewel started to back away slowly, with a grin on her face. Initiation into the circus, in Jewel's mind, involved being chewed out by Lorraine. She continued, "There is no excuse. You think all cats are the same? No! There are the ones you can hold on your lap, and the ones which will bite your head off if you look at them wrong." Joanna was looking extremely uncomfortable at this point, and Lorraine found herself satisfied with the guilty expression on Joanna's face. She started looking Joanna up and down. "_Fille_, when was the last time you had a shower? _Tu as l'air d'une serviette._" Joanna looked at her quizzically. "You look like a… what is it… drowned rat." She gestured over to Jewel. The waifish girl came over and looked at her expectantly. "Show her where the showers are. And lend her some of your clothes as well." Jewel's smile faltered.

"I don't think…she'll fit." Joanna nodded, looking her up and down. Joanna took a more direct approach.

"She's too skinny for us to share clothes, unless we're talking about a mu-mu, maybe." Joanna looked Jewel over, before continuing, "I'm more built then her." Lorraine sighed wearily, as the two girls looked at her strong figure, even if she was a bit taller than Joanna.

"Fine. _Mais_ only for today. Then you better have some clothes of your own."

"I have a shirt, but that's all I grabbed." Lorraine shot her a look.

"You left _plus vite, n'est pas_?"

"If I understand right, yes. I left in a hurry, if that's what you were asking."

"Yes. Follow." She began to walk away briskly, and Joanna scampered to catch up. When they were relatively out of sight, Lorraine turned sharply towards Joanna and glared at her threateningly. This perturbed her, and that was no small feat.

"If you make _une_ wrong move, _vos amis_ come and hurt any of the people here, you will wish you had stayed wherever you ran from, _putain_!" she spat the last word out like it was bitter. Joanna didn't like being threatened one bit. She straightened up.

"If my 'friends' come after the circus, the only thing I'll have to worry about is finding enough ammo for them all. I do not intend for any harm to come to the people who were kind enough to take me in, _butan_," she finished, mispronouncing the slur. Lorraine kept a smirk off her face, instead keeping her expression grim.

"You just called me a 'goal year'. Don't speak French around me unless you're going to pronounce it right."

"Well, if you wouldn't threaten me I wouldn't try to insult you!"

"Then don't give me reason to threaten you again."

"I didn't give you reason to begin with!"

"_S'il vous plaît_, I wasn't born yesterday! You're running from something up north, you left in a hurry, and you look like you're strong as Carlo. You are a shadow, _fille_, and I know nobody from the League of Shadows who ran and is still alive. They will look for you. And they will find you. But, if I have anything to say about it, they will not find you with this circus." She turned. "The showers are this way. I'll bring you some pants in a moment."

Back at the LoS in Taipei, 0700 hours:

"She ran away." Ra's seethed to the poor unfortunate minion tasked with informing him.

"Yes, um, Great One, there is no sign of the girl anywhere in the compound. Our tracking teams are searching airport scanners as we speak, and-"

"She won't be at an airport, imbecile. She is too well trained for that. Search safehouses she would know about, and look for her alias at all the international crossings. Ask anyone whom she has had extended contact with about places she might go. Look for any large traveling groups of people she might be able to sneak in to."

"Yes sir"

"Good." Ra's leaned back in his chair. "Talia?" His daughter came in from the adjoining chamber to his quarters. "Congratulations. You get to tell Deathstroke about this latest incident. And… scan the security cameras for her. There might be something in the hours previous her flight that would indicate where she went. And send in Mr. Mahkent. I'm curious to see what he knows about this."

Fifteen minutes later, an apprehensive Cameron Mahkent entered Ra's al Ghul's office. Thirty minutes after that, he exited, looking world-wearier than before and, to those who looked closely, sad.

An unnamed hotel in Aden, Yemen, 0300 hours:

The incessant ringing shook him out of sleep.

Slade rolled over in the lumpy bed. These things would be the death of him, right after the damn phones. He blew a piece of hair out of his face (he had been too tired to pull it back the night before) and reached over across the bed.

"'Lo?"

"Deathstroke? It's Talia." Slade pushed himself onto his forearm, and started to rub sleep out of his eyes.

"Got 'nother job already? I was looking forward to being able to see PJ for a couple days before I went off again, y'know." There was hesitance on the other end of the line as he grabbed a shirt off the floor and pulled it on. "Talia? You there?"

"She's gone, Slade." Slade very nearly dropped the receiver, fearing the worst.

"Define 'gone'," he demanded, standing and scanning the small room for his weapons. If that psychopath had gotten his hands on his daughter again… he glared at the wall.

"Not anywhere in the compound. We're scanning security footage from train stations, airports, and the docks for her."

"And _him_?"

"Tucked away in Arkham, far as we know. He does have a new lackey," there was a brief pause, "but …we don't know anything about them. We're assuming they're planning how to best break him out."

"I'm coming back. I need to know she's alright."

"Deathstroke… Slade. I know you want nothing more than to stomp back through these halls and ensure she has her teddy bear, but you are going to _stay put_. Father's orders. You have a mission to finish. Then we'll talk about getting you back here." Silence. Talia's tone turned imperious. "Slade?"

"Fine." But as he hung up the phone, he was moving up his timetable for the Yemeni public official, and calling back to memory which Arkham guards were easiest to pay off, the security system, and which cell belonged to the man he wanted to see.

One week later, 7 PM:

Joanna was finding it easy to blend in with the circus folk. In general, she would stay out of their way and they would only cross paths with her when absolutely necessary. Except Jewel. Jewel would stick to her side like a leech, bar when she was off practicing. What, Joanna didn't know as she barely stuck a word in edgewise between the seventeen-year-old's happy speeches on life, love and cute superheroes.

"I mean, Batman has the whole 'mysterious mojo' going for him, and Robin is just so adorable, but Superboy?" she fanned herself. "Hottie! What I wouldn't give to be held in those buff arms up against those muscles." She paused to take a breath as they continued down the hallway of the train.

"Really? I can't say I really like the guy." Jewel was stunned into silence and stillness, and looked at her like she had grown a separate head. Joanna looked from Jewel to the boxes she was carrying and back to Jewel. "What? He's just not my type." Jewel smirked mischievously.

"Sooooo… just who is your type?" Joanna looked at her. And sadly smiled.

"Oh, I see. You've followed me around all week waiting for a chance to ask me?" Jewel's expression grew sheepish. "My type, huh? Okay. One time thing, though. And you're sworn to secrecy on this." Jewel's smile widened.

"By the girl code." Joanna smiled nostalgically.

"My type of guy is the guy I left behind when he found me cheating on him with a guy more than twice my age. He was sweet, and he tried to shield me as best he could from the bad things in life," her smile grew bitter, "and introduce me to the good," she blinked furiously and sniffed, "and even though it drove me crazy, he set boundaries and he stuck to them." A big, fat tear ran down her cheek.

"You miss him."

"And my adoptive father. And my teacher. And even my boss sometimes."

"And the _homme_ you cheated with?" Lorraine interjected, poking her head out of the train compartment they had been standing by. Joanna started, nearly dropping her load of various prop-boxes. Joanna looked down shamefacedly.

"Once or twice." She whispered. Lorraine nodded.

"Guys are the worst addiction of all. _N'est pas,_ Jewel?" Jewel nodded sagely.

"Yep. Take those boxes where they need to go, and then you come back here for some girl time with Aunties Lori and Jewel. I'll let Mr. Haly know. Lori?" the woman snapped to attention. Jewel's tone made Joanna worry a bit. "Get the ice cream."

"Pistachio, chocolate, or Neapolitan?" Jewel's eyes narrowed menacingly.

"All of them. And, if you have time, cue up Pirates of the Caribbean. I sense we will need Mr. Depp's help with this one." Joanna raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't met Mr. Depp. Who's he? Another performer?"

"Of a sort." Jewel's Cheshire smile grew. Joanna's shoulders sagged in a sort of defeat.

"Alright. Give me five, I'll be right back."

Half an hour later, Joanna was ensconced in blankets, boxes of chocolate, cartons of ice cream, and was happily watching Will Turner fight off Jack Sparrow, complete with Jewel and Lorraine's commentary.

"Seriously, someday I want a shirt like that." Joanna smiled.

"_Un jour_, I want to learn to fence. _C'est très sexy_."

"Poor donkey's probably traumatized for life," Joanna interjected.

"Oh, Katherine, just wait 'til you see the monkey. _Il est plus mignon._"

The night passed, with the cold Taiwanese landscape passing outside the window on their way to Kaohsiung, the girls happily watching pirates and chattering. Joanna was the only one conscious when the sun started to peek over the mountains.

It was beautiful.

Across the Pacific and a continent, a demented smile grew slightly wider and a noose grew tighter.

* * *

This chapter, I really tried to make Joanna more imperfect, in a big way. Originally, for this chapter, I had a scene forcing her to leave but she was the victim, and I wanted to avoid something like that, and there was no previous indication of the character responsible, and, and, and. So instead you guys get this. The awesome thing about her being "born" one year ago (story-wise. She's only been in my brain for about eight months) is that I can still develop her character and her quirks. Anyway, I hope ya'll loved this chapter. I worked very hard on it, and I think I should try to write more romance scenes. Comments, questions, concerns?

So you can probably all guess who "Guy Slade hates" is. But why Slade hates him? That... is for another time.

For it is now French Translation Time!

Bonjour: Hello

Fille démente: Demented girl

Mais: But

Plus vite, n'est pas?: very fast, no?

Tu as l'air d'une serviette: Direct Translation: You look all wrung out. Idiomatic Translation: You look like a drowned rat.

Fille: Girl

Putain: Whore, hooker

Vos amis: Your friends

S'il vous plait: please

Un jour: One day

C'est très sexy: It's very sexy

Il est très mignon: He is so cute

Night ya'll!


	14. Motion

So... Sorry for the long wait guys. I've been getting reacquainted with school and thus haven't had much time to type this. Don't worry though, I have a whole plethora of ideas, it will just take some time to get them out. Anyway, for those of you who don't hate Joanna to hell and back, here's chapter 13!

* * *

"So, Kathy, you said you were wondering what I do earlier if memory serves, right, Lori?" Jewel asked one day in Mongolia.

"_Oui_ Jewel. Katherine had asked what you did earlier. You remember, _oui_ Katherine?" Katherine looked up from her breakfast. They had crossed into China two weeks prior, then into Mongolia three days ago. Katherine had surreptitiously evaded all customs officers, with Lorraine's begrudging help.

"Um… yes?"

"Well, today after breakfast I thought you might like to come and watch me practice." Katherine's eyes started to sparkle.

"Seriously? That would be awesome."

"Yup. Who knows, we might get you to try some stuff too." Katherine was too invested in her toast and imagination to notice the mischievous smile Jewel was sporting.

Half an hour later…

"Holy _Gŏupì_ that HURTS!" Katherine called from fifteen feet above the floor of the makeshift practice tent.

"That means you're doing it right! Be more limp, it helps! A little." Jewel yelled up, grinning, as Katherine tried to work her way into a more comfortable hip key. Once this had been accomplished she looked down to see Jewel's Cheshire cat smile (she could have given Jade lessons).

"You planned this, didn't you?" Katherine deadpanned.

"Maybe a little." Jewel answered cheekily.

"I will fall on you. Don't think I won't."

"That's not the purpose of the hip key. I would feel more threatened if it was just a one-foot wrap."

"Then that's what I would like to learn next, if you please."

"Nope. You'll just fall on me. Crush my frail little bones."

"Do you do this often?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Your bones aren't that frail." Jewel laughed and rolled her eyes. Haly walked in, talking to Carlo and his brother, Santiago.

"Fine. Come down. Haly looks like something needs to be moved." Katherine flailed about climbing down the fabric, before setting her feet on solid ground.

"Thanks for the lesson. Really." Jewel smiled proudly. "In return, I get to teach you some of my tricks." Jewel nodded, unsuspecting the horrors that awaited her.

As it turned out, it was almost a week before Katherine had her chance. Between shows, props that somehow ended up opposite of where they needed to be, and an incident with chopsticks they all swore to forget, there wasn't the time. But the following Saturday, when Katherine had been with the circus for a month, she finally received her opening.

"There's always some murdered woman in this town. It's really sad," Jewel mused, looking at a local newspaper with another performer (her name was Xui Li) translating. Katherine looked from her book at Jewel.

"Well, boys are often preferred over girls due to years of traditional values and the extra cost of a girl's dowry. But due to laws here, it's illegal to get an abortion simply because of the gender of the fetus. It means that there are lots of unwanted girl babies, and often, desperate mothers wanting to please their husband and in-laws resort to infanticide. But the girl babies who do survive are often mistreated, even into adulthood. And those are the cases you read about in the papers." Jewel just stared at her a moment.

"Well thank you Wikipedia. How do you know that?"

"In my spare time, I read. And then, after the fourth of fifth reading, I memorize whatever book it is. At least partially." Jewel continued staring. "What?"

"It's scary. Seriously, you just said that with a totally straight face. Like, it's just some statistic, or something. It's creepy. Show some emotion, maybe?"

"I… um. I guess I've gotten desensitized to this sort of thing? I mean, I've read it so much, it doesn't really disturb me that much anymore," she said, carefully omitting that the content of the attacks weren't the worst thing she had heard of, especially having lived amongst mercenaries and glorified hitmen her entire life. She returned to her book of Chinese short stories she had taken with her on her flight from the LoS. She wondered how everyone else (that she cared about) was doing. She was, however, pulled from this train of thought by Jewel's whining.

"Come into town with me. I need to get some stuff that can't really wait and don't want to go by myself…"

"Can you ask Lorraine?"

"She's busy. Pleeeeeeeaaaase?" Katherine rolled her eyes.

"Could you have asked this morning? It's almost midnight." Jewel pouted. Katherine sighed. "Fine. But no sidetrips. And give me a sec to get my shoes."

The walk to the only open drugstore was uneventful enough, and Jewel's purchase of last-minute feminine hygiene products and chocolate went smoothly. Of course, Jewel wanted to get back to the train as quickly as possible, and suggested a shortcut. Katherine wondered why all shortcuts had to go through dark alleyways. It was only after Jewel admitted she was lost, that Katherine opened the dark box from her LoS training.

Her eyes focused on the darkest corners and vantage points, and other places where she would hide. Even when they had returned to the main road, Katherine's fingers were itching to clutch at one of the absent knives normally strapped to her thigh. She heard a group of college age boys start to follow them. She grabbed Jewel's arm and pulled her down another dark alley, keeping Jewel facing the wall.

"Stay behind me, don't turn around." The men's voices were getting closer. She narrowed her eyes. Three of them. Damn if she wouldn't have appreciated her gun right now. Or even a fork; they were reliable and four little holes in the neck were more than enough to incapacitate a man. A fourth voice joined. Another man. She turned to look at Jewel. She was terrified. "Shh, it'll be alright. Just let Auntie Kathy take care of this one," she spoke calmly, using the title Jewel usually reserved for herself and Lorraine. Katherine heard two of the men round the corner. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head. Pulled the strings tight, shading her face.

"Evenin', gents," she affected an accent from Lorraine's beloved John Wayne movies. "Can me and my friend help ya'll?" One of the men who seemed to understand English looked at her curiously.

"Perhaps. My friends and I are looking for some beautiful ladies with which to share our night."

"Well, given' I ain't no lady, I'm assumin' you mean my scared friend here. But this sweet liddie here ain't really in the mood tonight."

"Forgive me, I wasn't intending to imply you had choice."

"Aww, so polite even when lookin' for a doxy. I suggest you go 'fore I knock ya'll galley west." He looked perplexed.

"What?"

"Git 'fore I knock you into next month." He spoke in fast Chinese to his friend. Friend #1 pulled a blade. A dangerous light glinted in Katherine – Joanna's eyes. Oh yes the bitch was back in force. She cracked her knuckles and turned to face the men, who had been joined by their other two friends.

She stood her ground as two men – Friends #1 and 3 – rushed towards her. Her old reflexes kicked in. Between moving boxes and the aerial fabric acrobatics Jewel had been teaching her, she was in good condition. Not prime, but good. #1 slashed downwards trying to land a hit on her torso, which she evaded easily. #3, being a bit smarter, waited until she was off-balance before thrusting up. It sliced through her arm, and she bit back a cry. Going on the offensive, she placed one foot behind her firmly, and punched #3 in the nose, catching his knife when he dropped it in pain. It was shorter than she was used to, but she could work with it. She swept #3's legs from beneath him onto his butt, before hitting the crown of his head with the handle of the knife.

#1 was almost immediately joined by #2, the one who could speak English staying back. #2, learning from his friend's mistakes, kept his distance most of the time, letting #1 take the hits and sneaking under her defenses and slicing at her ribcage.

"_Lao tyen_, you are good." She muttered under her breath, which was getting harder and harder to take in. But when she thought she had figured out his pattern, the next time she dodged a move from #1, she immediately turned and swiped cleanly through #2's neck with a sickening _shlupp_. The world slowed down. _No…_ her gaze twitched to Jewel, who kept her eyes on the wall, and back to the gurgling, dying man. She felt #1 lumbering up behind her, and quickly incapacitated him with a fist to the chin.

"This man will die without immediate medical treatment. You can follow my friend and I, or he can live." She picked up the tearful mess that was Jewel.

"Katherine? What's going on? Who's dying?"

"Just close your eyes and rest, gem. We'll be back home soon."

First chance she got, Joanna dumped the bloodstained jacket. The chilly air nipped at her shoulders, but the train was close. As she boarded the dark car and entered the even darker hallway, she realized she could see her breath. The cold biting at her bare skin was unnatural. The way she saw it, she had two options. One, confront and conquer. Two, ignore until Jewel was out of the way. She continued walking down the hall and turned into Jewel's compartment. She set the petite girl on her usual cot and covered her with blankets, then took off her shoes. She silently shut the door and re-entered the hall.

"I know you're there Cam." The cold intensified. Her fingers started to go numb. "Okay, okay I give! Cameron work?" No change. "Mahkent?" It warmed a fraction of a degree. "Alright, that works. Just no freezing the others in their sleep."

"No promises," a voice came from the doorway. "That all depends on you."

"What is it you want, Mahkent?"

"I want answers. Why? Why him of all people?" the last words he spit out were bitter, they left a bad taste in her mouth. "I want to know, damnit!"

"Get in line!" Silence. She breathed in, continued. "I don't know what happened either, alright? I didn't mean to- ugh!" she couldn't finish.

"To what? Fall in love with him?"

"NO! I have no idea what we had, but it wasn't love!"

"Then what was it?"

"I don't know, alright?" Tears started to well up in her eyes. "He kissed me in the hall one day, caught me totally by surprise, and I was fed up with… with you and your stupid limits! I wanted more, and he was giving it to me and I got stupid."

"Don't you dare turn this on me! You have better willpower than that! I know you, and I have seen you stay awake for two days straight to prove Talia wrong about something so stupid I can't remember what it is any more! Don't you dare tell me you got stupid!" he emerged from the shadows, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"Well I did!" she started rubbing her hands on her arms. The temperature started to drop dangerously. She cursed herself for tossing her jacket. Bloodstains were better than frostbite. "Mahkent, stop. It hurts." Her fingers started to turn blue. "Please, Cam!" she cried out. A single tear dropped from her eye and froze on her cheek. "If for no other reason, because I'm not good enough for you to get your hands bloody!" The hall got warmer.

"You're right." He turned to the door. "You aren't good enough." Now that stung.

"Before you go. One question."

"What?"

"How did you find me?"

"…Talia. She's been watching you like a hawk. From the night you ran. She's keeping her father in the loop, but begging for him to keep his distance, just as long as you don't make any fuss." Joanna looked down.

"Crap." He quirked a frosty eyebrow. "I… I just slit a guy's throat when he and his friends tried to get the girl I was carrying in just now. But tell her I said thanks?"

"Ah. And maybe."

"I know I just said one question… but what about my dad?"

"He's livid. With just about everyone. He drove a girl to tears yesterday when she dropped a fork. I… I haven't told him. About you and…"

"You can. If… if you want to. If it'll make you feel better." She grinned sadly. "It'll at least make for an interesting show. The record for how many times his face changes color when he's mad is five." That drew a corner of his mouth up on his face. "I am sorry." It disappeared. He stalked out the door. The room temperature returned to normal. Joanna huddled in a corner, shivering. Lorraine came out from one of the compartments, arms across her chest, carrying a ragged quilt.

"So that's the ex, huh?"

"Yes." Lorraine sighed.

"You're hopeless. Here's a blanket. Now, what's this about you killing a guy earlier?"

"Didn't kill him. The uh, the knife, it didn't cut deep enough to kill him immediately. So he's probably at a hospital now." She looked at Lorraine. "I wasn't supposed to be this person anymore."

"You screwed up big time, then. _Vos amis_ coming for you now, seeing how you just announced yourself?"

"I put on accent. Really western. I don't think anything else was that memorable. Besides my fighting skills, that is. None of them got a good look at my face. But Talia… she'll know it was me. She knows me like the back of her hand."

"Then we're dropping you in Russia." Joanna nodded.

"Alright."

"Say your goodbyes. You aren't hurting this circus or dragging it in the mud any more."

"I understand." Lorraine's face pinched.

"And then we're picking you back up in Senegal. I have family you can stay with until then. Dye your hair, get some colored contacts. _Mais_ until then you lay low, _vous comprenez_?"

"I understa… wait, what? I thought you hated me!"

"_Non_. I don't trust you, but," she shrugged her shoulders, "Jewel is really attached to you. There aren't many girls here her age. I am close, but you are closer." She seemed to remember something. "So how did you end up slicing a man's throat anyway?"

"Jewel needed some stuff from in town, I went with her, some guys didn't know how to walk away, they pulled knives on us, I took them down. End of story." Lorraine looked skeptical. "Really. I didn't… provoke them or anything. Can I go to sleep now?"

"Fine. We're leaving soon anyway. _Bonne nuit_."

One week later:

Joanna stepped off the train after a quick hug from Jewel and a handshake from Lorraine, which discreetly contained a paper with an address. The Russian train platform was cold, and the fine powder immediately coated her feet and legs. She pulled her cap low on her face and shouldered her duffel. Clothes, a month and a half's worth of pay from the circus, her books, and a small gift from Jewel she had jokingly been forbade to open under pain of death. Her trip through the station was short on the way to the exit, but she couldn't keep herself from ogling the varying travelers.

As she stepped out on the street, her first objective became clear. Lose whatever tail Talia put on her. Russia was a country of 143 million people. She should be able to disappear. After almost half an hour of walking, she came across a street where there were abandoned-looking buildings scattered up and down the side road. She picked the most boarded of them and walked up to it. Surreptitiously scanning the street, she pulled off one of the boards, enough for her to fit through. The plates were still on the table and there was hardly any sign the house was abandoned, aside from the boards obscuring the street and the fact that everything was stone cold.

She thought it over in her mind. She had four months to cross a distance of over four thousand miles. A thousand miles a month sounded daunting. She smiled. But that's what trains are for. She looked over her total funds, totaling about two thousand U.S. dollars and five hundred new Taiwanese dollars. A look around the first level of the house showed she wouldn't need to worry about food; there were plenty of canned goods and other nonperishables. She cautiously headed up the stairs and looked in the first room. It was a dark room, not just because of the lack of light, but the walls were a deep forest green and the carelessly made bed was covered with blankets that seemed to be trying to emulate the midnight sky. The walls were plastered with posters of varying bands. The closet was full of clothes divided evenly between fishnet and flame patterns. There was a bottle of blood-red hair dye in the corner. Joanna looked hard at it.

She impulsively grabbed it to check what language the instructions were in. Russian, Chinese, English. She ran down to the kitchen, hunting for a pair of scissors. She had to settle for a medium-sized knife. Grabbed a chunk of hair. Leaned over the sink. She squeezed her eyes shut.

By the time she was done, locks of blonde hair were scattered around the drain and she had several scratches on her fingers and the sides of her face. More calmly, she picked the bottle of hair dye back up and headed up to the bathroom she had seen when she first came in. She set the bottle on the counter, turning one of the taps on, determinedly not looking at herself in the mirror. No water came out. Not surprising, given the state the house was in. She returned to the kitchen, grabbed the largest pots and bowls she could find, went into the tiny, snow-filled backyard, filled them all with ice and carried them back up to the bathroom. She dyed her hair vibrant red. There. New recognizable feature. She nervously looked in the mirror. The hair was more recognizable, for sure, but she still looked like herself. "Dammit!"

But, she thought to herself, that was another problem for another day. The sky had grown dark by the time she had hunted down enough candles to see with. She pried open a can of beans, digging in with relish. A padding noise startled her, plastic spoon inches from her mouth. She put down her paltry meal and picked the knife she had used on her hair up. Shifted into a crouching position as the noise got closer, and was about to pounce when a 150-pound wolf stopped in the doorway. Joanna froze. She let out a small wailing sound, the wolf's ears perked up, and it looked at her. It started baring its teeth, and came closer, stopping just short of her nose. It stopped growling only long enough to sniff her, before she received the seal of relative tolerance and put the knife down. The wolf then proceeded to go and eat what remained of her dinner. She was so stunned there wasn't much she could do, besides stare. After it had finished off the beans, there was a moment of bonding as the wolf got its nose stuck in the can and Joanna had to cautiously approach to get it off. It looked at her with annoyed gratitude, and then exited the room the same way it came, presumably to forage through the other houses. Well, now she knew why the neighborhood was empty.

Over the next week, the dog came by every night to see what Joanna was eating. After day three of this, Joanna decided she was hungry enough and firmly pushed the wolf's nose away from her canned soup. "No." It growled at her. She growled back. "No. My food." It moved towards her soup again. She grabbed hold of its muzzle, and pointed it toward the door. It wrenched its nose out of her grip, turned toward her and growled angrily, nipping at her shoulder. She backed off, still holding her soup, and fumbled on the ground for her knife. She picked it up and held it out an arm's length from her, and the wolf seemed to understand the meaning. _Back off. _It, still growling, walked away and out the door again.

It was almost a week before the wolf came back again, unrepentant. But it also knew to stay on its side of the room and she would stay on hers. What it absolutely didn't expect was a juicy steak sitting on the ground as a peace offering one night. It didn't expect it at all. Not one whit. Which was just as well because that never happened.

During the course of the week, Joanna took inventory of the house and started staking out the train station. A train ticket to Libya, where she would go the rest of the way by car, ran about twice her funds. She started surreptitiously asking around about bodyguard work, leaving a place she could be contacted. After another two weeks she had her first job, paying around $750. The five-year-old she was supposed to watch exhausted her, but true to form, she kept the bullets and knives away. The only injury she sustained was a broken jaw, which she failed to set properly and thus made her jaw sharper. Her next outing was specifically for the purpose of being seen in a bad disguise. The best way, she reasoned, to lose someone was to give them something specific to look for (a skanky-looking girl with a big nose) and sneak off as something else entirely (she wasn't sure what this would be yet, but it would have something to do with the wigs she found in the neighbor's house).

Her next body-guarding job involved keeping a known criminal safe, as opposed to a five-year-old. While he didn't run around as much, he was a bit grabby and she had to keep her temper in check multiple times before finally threatening to cut off a rather important appendage, after which he kept his distance. That one was a weeklong job, which meant she went for a week eating on someone else's dime. She made sure to take full advantage. Her life evolved back into a daily routine of waking up, working out, sparring (often grappling with whatever piece of furniture she felt angry at) eating, searching for work and being seen, and then going home to fitful nights of sleep. Since she was living off the grid, she had no ways of obtaining sleep aids, forcing her to try and solve her problems with meditation. This proved to be a rather futile exercise, but it filled her time and gave her some moments of peace when awake. And so, a month passed, with her steadily earning more money and raising a small reputation among the criminal underground of the medium-sized town.

Across the planet, in Gotham:

Deathstroke carefully walked through the eerie halls of Arkham Asylum. Talia waited outside in the pouring rain, on call in case Batman showed. It had taken much longer than he appreciated to find the time to plan a way in to the nuthouse, but now he was here and on his way to "kindly" speak to the man responsible for turning his first daughter into a woman with psychosis. He stopped in front of the cell, checking his comm link with Talia.

"I'm going in."

"No broken bones," she said through the static. "Arkham guards are trained not to notice. Batman isn't." He didn't respond.

The creaking noise from the rusty hinges woke the man inside the cell, a smile plastered on his face from the moment he entered consciousness.

"Well, one-eye, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Joker happily hopped off his cot and swung his arm in a sweeping motion, gesturing to the room. "I'm sorry I haven't cleaned up more, I wasn't expecting company until tomorrow." He picked up a stone off the floor. "But would you like a biscuit? I'm not much of a cook, I'm afraid, they're hard as rocks!" he bit in, grimacing smile not faltering whatsoever.

"You know why I'm here, Joker. Where is she?" a comical frown spread on Joker's face.

"I thought we had decided that Rosie-dear would stay with me and Harley for a while, until you got your act together. She is very angry with you, you know," he said, wagging a finger at Deathstroke. "Not fun at all." He sighed dramatically. "Harley says she has fallen in with some bad people, psychos and the like. Oh, wait," the grinning grimace returned. "That's me!"

"Not Rose, Joker, I'm talking about Joanna."

"Joanna?" comprehension slapped across his face. "Oh, Daddy's new little girl! As far as I know, she's not here. Why? Did you think she was? The only sign of insanity I see in her is that she chose you as her father. You've done so well with that in the past!" he never stopped smiling. "After all, most fathers only arrive after I've gotten both eyes out!" Slade wanted nothing more than to jump forward, hands wrapping around Joker's neck, slamming him against the wall. But no. He had to keep control, not let the Joker have it. But how does someone who isn't Batman control the Joker? This was a question Slade had been pondering the whole trip. The first answer he had come up with was to impersonate Batman. It wouldn't be the first time, but it wouldn't make sense for Batman to be asking around about a member of the shadows who he likely knew little about. So that left intimidation. This was very foggy territory when it came to the Joker. Pain was unadvisable, he had nobody he cared about losing, and there was very little Slade could take away from the grimy little cell that Joker would truly miss. That left money. And working for the LoS, that was one thing he had in spades. Apparently, people paid very well to have other people killed.

"Name your price for the information I want."

"Oh, but bumblebee, who's to say I have the information you want?"

"Who's to say you don't?"

"I say I don't. But if you get me out of here, maybe I'll say I do."

"Well which is it?"

"Either, neither, maybe both!" he said with a smile. "Get me out or you'll never know!" Talia chimed in on Slade's wireless earpiece.

"We have incoming Justice Leaguers. I cannot see Batman or Robin, but they'll likely be looking for something. I do not know what." Slade swore and began stomping out to the hallway.

"The offer stands, bumblebee!" the Joker cried out as the heavy metal door swung shut with a decisive _thud_.

Outside, Talia was curious as to what Joker had wanted in exchange for information on Joanna. She was against the idea.

"He's crazy, he probably knows nothing!"

"But on the off-chance he does know something, I will not lose another daughter to him!"

"You're superimposing Rose on Joanna. I know her. She is stronger than that." She was in Russia, where Joker's eyes couldn't see her, having supper with Brain's escaped first attempts on Venom-enhanced animals. "She will be fine."

"How do you know for sure, Talia? How do you really know for sure?"

"Fine. Because I know where she is."

* * *

Aah and how will Daddy dearest respond to this? Well you'll just have to wait for the next chapter, won't you?

Also, I'm writing a combination of Mark Hamill's Joker and a bit of my own mozzarella cheese in there. Because the YJ Joker was just... not good. Let me know what you, the readers, think! I am not sleeping for you, after all!

Translations:

Gŏupì: Chinese for shit.

Lao tyen: Chinese for my God.

The French is fairly easy to follow. _Amis_, friends, _comprenez_, understand, _mais_, but. And _non_ is pretty self-explanatory.

R&R please!


End file.
